


from me to you

by microcosmo



Series: let me face, let me face, let me face my fears [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complicated Sibling Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, M/M, Minor Character Death, but that's okay, cool older kids don't know what they're doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 163,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microcosmo/pseuds/microcosmo
Summary: in which hop's brother is just another stranger
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan, Hop & Dande | Leon, Hop & Kibana | Raihan, Hop & Mary | Marnie, Hop & Sonia (Pokemon)
Series: let me face, let me face, let me face my fears [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858903
Comments: 640
Kudos: 482





	1. in remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tragedy strikes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (psst totally isn't a re-upload when I changed my mind about story direction haha...ha)
> 
> basically, this is an attempt to explore a different relationship dynamic between the cutest siblings ever. it'll probably be complicated and sad but also hopeful and fluffy.  
> i hope you enjoy!

It’s raining when she’s finally laid to rest.

Hop watches unflinchingly as the casket is lowered into the damp Earth, adorned with once sprightly flowers wilted beyond recognition. It’s suited to the moment, he thinks. His mother’s final days weren’t especially beautiful and he’d rather not fool himself into thinking they were.

A slow and painful death littered with complications and anxiety. Agonizing is an apt description. He wonders if any of the flowers Professor Magnolia was kind enough to arrange reflect that. He may look them up later, just to check, if he’s in any mood to feel as though he isn’t falling apart at the seams.

A final scripture is read. There are muffled sniffles all around. His mother was loved and well- respected within their hamlet. He wonders if she was aware of that. If she knew their tiny community would come together to bid her farewell. He hopes she did. Hopes she knew she had a place in their hearts. That’s all he can pray for.

Above, the tempest rages on. Thunder booms, lightning strikes, startling gasps from attendees.

Still, Hop does not look away. He watches as the Earth swallows his mother whole, granting her a long-deserved rest and eternal peace. Something along those lines, at least. His mother wasn’t especially religious, but he recalls her murmuring verses of that nature when her own parents passed, days apart from one another. He recites those same words quietly, to the best of his ability.

_betray not your anger_

_weep not with sorrow_

_let such be blessed by the land_

_deep, deep, drawing no breath_

_deeper, deeper they dive_

_into suffocating depths they dive_

_betray not your anger_

_weep not with sorrow_

_let such be blessed by the land_

He feels a hand on his shoulder.

It’s Sonia. She isn’t crying, but her eyes are red-rimmed, cheeks stained with tears long since shed.

“Where is that from?” She asks quietly. He doesn’t miss the way she angles her umbrella over him. There isn’t any point in it as he’s already completely soaked to the bone, but he appreciates the gesture regardless.

“I don’t know.” He responds, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. “I thought she may like to hear it.”

“I think she did.” Sonia tries her best to smile. It’s weak and frayed at the edges, but it manages an equally as pathetic one from him. “Especially from you.”

“Maybe.” Hop would beg to differ, but that’s not an appropriate conversation to have anymore.

Sonia’s smile wilts. She looks as though she’s about to ask him to elaborate, when a slight commotion draws both their attention away.

A familiar figure draws closer, dressed in a midnight black suit. The mourners create a path for him, offering condolences as he passes by, as if he isn’t late. As if he hasn’t arrived once the dust has settled and she’s meters below the Earth.

As if he hasn’t missed the entire ceremony dedicated to commemorating their _mother—_

Hop’s throat constricts, his stomach coiling unpleasantly. Sonia’s hand tightens on his shoulder.

“Hop—“ She pleads. “Hop, _please_.”

He shakes her off.

“I’m leaving.”

“Hop, _don’t_ —“

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can bring himself to say, walking past the latecomer and through the crowd of surprised neighbors.

He vaguely hears his name being called, but he pays it no mind. He won’t stop, he _can’t_ stop. He’s not about to solemnly stand around and pretend everything is okay. Pretend there are no hard feelings and everything is perfectly fine. He doesn’t want to lash out. Doesn’t want to make a mockery of his mother’s resting place.

Instead, he takes off at a sprint, tearing through the cemetery’s cobblestone path out into Wedgehurst’s peacefully empty streets.

He runs and runs and runs, until his lungs burn and his sobs threaten to suffocate him. He stumbles past fields devoid of any Wooloo, feet skidding as he rounds the bend to his home. The ground is wet and muddy. He trips and falls, rising to his feet without a care, ignoring the scrapes and bruises on his hands and knees.

Hop bursts through the front door, slamming it shut behind him. He doesn’t stop to consider any of the empty rooms, absent of his mother’s customarily warm words, urging him into the kitchen for dinner or tutting at his injuries with a fondly exasperated look on her face.

There’s nothing.

Hop is alone.

Ignoring the crippling silence, he stumbles up the stairs and into his room, collapsing onto the carpeted floor. He knows he’s making a mess of water everywhere, and that he should change into something dry before he catches a cold, but he doesn’t care. What does it matter? No one will be there to scold him for it.

No one will be there at all.

Hop cries. He cries, and cries and cries.

“You _promised!_ ” He wails. “You said you’d be okay!”

He cries until his his tears dry up and his chest is heaving from the exertion. Then he cries some more, because it _hurts hurts hurts he’s alone his mum is gone and he’s all alone._

The tempest outside rages on.

Hop cries and cries, but his mother isn’t there to make things better anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the prayer hop recites is adapted from the sinnoh creation myths in the canalave library. wanted something fitting and somewhat canonical so yeah


	2. a doll's beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hop sets off from postwick.

“—not sure about this—“

“—no other relatives. He’s already agreed—“

“—has anyone asked how _he_ feels about this—“

“—there is no other option. It’s this or—“

“—don’t say that!“

Hop considers walking in on what is supposed to be a hushed conversation about his future living arrangements. He _could_ walk in, make everything unbearably awkward for everyone and be subjected to another deluge of condolences and reassurances that everything would be fine and there was nothing to worry about.

He _could_.

Ultimately, he decides against it, because he’s tired and somewhat irritated after a fitful night of sleep. Not in any mood to deal with the minefield taking up space in the living room, he opts instead for tiptoeing back up the stairs and into his room, the door quietly clicking shut behind him.

There isn’t much left for him to do there, however. Most of his belongings have been packed, furniture and the like already shipped off to wherever it is he’ll be staying. The rest is to be sold, including the house.

It pains Hop, but it isn’t as if his childhood home isn’t chock full of horrid memories he’d rather forget. He couldn’t imagine sticking around for the rest of his life, recalling every bittersweet interaction, every single one of his mothers fits of un-wellness, every denial otherwise. The rooms where she used to laugh and sing and pretend she wasn’t crying, pretend she was all right because she hated the idea of Hop realizing she wasn’t, even though it was obvious.

It was always obvious. His mother was a horrible liar.

As much as it hurts to leave the house behind, hurts to know some other happy family will snatch it up and be none the wiser to the sadness entrenched into its very foundation, another part of him is relieved to let it go and never have to acknowledge how much hurt it has caused him ever again.

Maybe the next child who carelessly knocks over vases and stains the floors will have a mother who’s healthy and happy and doesn’t lie about how much pain she’s in.

Hop wipes the tears from his eyes. It seems no matter how many times he thinks he’s run out, they always start back up again. He shouldn’t be crying, big boys don’t cry, but he can’t help it.

Trying to find something to distract himself, he settles for going through his closet.

There’s barely anything left besides a few shoeboxes stuffed with miscellaneous items. Nothing important and nothing that can’t be tossed away, although there are a few cool rocks he’s slightly hesitant to part with.

And then there’s _the_ _box_.

It’s been sitting at the back of his closet for a while, dusty and nearly forgotten, occupying space at the back of his mind for all that Hop wishes it wouldn’t.

It’s black and littered with frowny faces drawn in white out and various different colored paints. His attempts at rebellion in a way, for all that it never made a difference.

He grabs it. It’s sealed shut with glue and tape, red x’s scrawled in permanent marker on the pale white adhesive. If Hop’s being honest, he was planning on either leaving it behind or tossing it out at the first opportunity. There’s nothing in it he’s particularly interested in going through and nothing that’s valuable enough to hold onto as a keepsake.

It may as well just be an empty box.

And yet—

“Hop?”

The box tumbles to the floor from how fiercely he startles. Head whipping around, he finds Sonia poking her head into his bedroom. Her face is flushed red, lips bitten raw, although her eyes aren’t puffy from tears.

 _Must have been arguing_ , he gathers, gazing at her expectantly.

She smiles weakly.

“He’s here.”

He is.

After gathering his travel bag (not before stuffing the stupid box in after a moments indecision) Hop drags himself downstairs after Sonia.

Professor Magnolia is there, back turned to him as she speaks quietly to the last person Hop wants to see just outside the front door. He hasn’t stepped foot in the house, hasn’t come near it, not even after the funeral, and maybe that’s for the best.

“I’ve fetched him.” Sonia says, eyebrows furrowed something fierce. “But I still stand by what I—“

“ _Sonia_.” The professor interrupts her sternly. She spares Hop a meaningful glance. “Are you ready to go, dear?”

No, Hop is _not_ ready to go. He’ll never be ready to go, despite how much he wants to leave and never come back. It doesn’t make sense, and yet here he is, about to be forcibly taken from the only place he’s ever called home.

Hop _isn’t_ ready. Not for this and not for anything else.

“Yes.” He replies, because what else can he do?

* * *

The train ride is uncomfortable.

The goodbyes were too, but he rather liked them. Sonia hugged him until he could barely breathe, but he liked it, because he loves Sonia. She’s the greatest (and only) friend he could have ever asked for, the sister he never had but always needed, and a heck of a good teacher. She promises to call him every so often, so long as he promises to do the same. Hop promises, because he doesn’t know what he would do without Sonia constantly there to offer advice and consolation and teasing remarks about his height and how his head would implode from how much thinking he’s always doing. Technology affords them communication, so they may as well take full advantage of it.

Saying goodbye to Professor Magnolia is a more subdued affair.

She isn’t an overly affectionate person. She’s never been, not even to her own granddaughter, but Hop can tell she cares. It’s in the way she tells him to look after himself and stop by for tea one day, when he’s settled and ready for it.

Hop doesn’t think he’ll be ready for a long time. Wedgehurst isn’t Postwick, but there’s so many shared memories between the two, they may as well be the same.

But maybe one day they can have tea, and Hop won’t be reminded of the empty seat at the table anymore.

And maybe one day, he’ll be able to forget about the unbearably tense and awkward train ride to his future as well.

If only.

“Do you have everything?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

“Mm.”

“Do you have any questions? About anything?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Silence follows. Hop pointedly keeps his eyes fixed on the passing scenery, because he doesn’t want to acknowledge the person sitting across from him.

He only gets to count a few dozen fields of wooloo before he gets spoken to again.

“Hop, can we talk?”

“No.”

“Please? This is difficult enough as it is.”

“I don’t care.”

“Hop, you need to understand—“

“I _do_ understand.” Hop cuts in. His blood is boiling and it’s only been ten minutes since they departed. “I understand that neither of us wants this. That the only reason you’re even _here_ is because she’s _dead_ and I have to live _somewhere_.”

“That’s not _true—“_

“It doesn’t _matter_. I’ll stay out of the way and you can do whatever you want. Wouldn’t want some stupid country hick ruining your image in Wyndon.”

“I—We’re not going to Wyndon.”

That catches Hop’s attention.

“What?” He finally looks up. Finally takes in Champion Leon’s vaguely familiar face, one that’s changed and morphed into one he doesn’t recognize anymore.

How many years _has_ it been?

“We’re not going to Wyndon.” The champion repeats, meeting his gaze with a frown. “It’s not—We’re not going there.”

“Where _are_ we going, then?” Hop asks. “Do you have property somewhere else?”

“If you mean a seaside villa or estate, _no_ , I _don’t_.” The champion responds wryly. “We’ll be staying in Hammerlocke for the foreseeable future.”

“So you have property in Hammerlocke?”

“I don’t have property at all.”

Hop scowls. How was it possible for someone to be this infuriating?

“Then what are you on about?” He demands. “Are we going to live in a cardboard box by the port? Because if that’s true, we may as well have camped out in Sonia’s front yard. At least then she could throw us leftovers from her window.”

“That’s not—No, we’re not doing that. We’re staying…somewhere.”

Hop levels the champion with one last incredulous look before facing the window once again.

“Whatever.”

They don’t talk for the rest of the trip.

Hop hopes it stays that way for a very long time.

* * *

Hop’s hopes are dashed.

“What do you mean you don’t know the way?”

The champion has the decency to look somewhat sheepish. They’re standing outside the station like a pair of dolts, with no idea where to go.

“I’m not very good with directions.” He replies quietly, fiddling with the pokéballs strapped to his waist.

“Don’t you have a phone?”

“No.”

Hop cannot believe what he’s hearing.

“That doesn’t—What?”

“Charizard usually helps me, but if I send him out we’ll be noticed, and I’d rather not be.”

That’s surprising, although now that Hop thinks about it, the champion’s attire is anything but flashy. The cap, oversized sweater and tinted aviators were doing their job in helping him blend into the crowd.

“Guess I’ll look it up then.” Hop sighs, taking out his phone. “What’s the address?”

“I don’t know.”

For a moment, Hop seriously considers begging Sonia to let him live in her yard.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.” He responds with a straight face. “I told you. Charizard usually helps me.”

“How did Charizard know where to go the first time?”

“It’s pretty obvious by air.”

“Can you really not send him out? It’s not as if he’s the only Charizard in the region…?”

Leon doesn’t say anything, but his silence is more than answer enough.

Great.

“Okay, okay.” Hop takes a deep breath to reign in his frustration. Getting angry wouldn’t accomplish anything. The sooner they found their way, the sooner he could get settled, finish his schooling, get a job, move out, and never have to associate with Galar’s directionally challenged Champion ever again. “Can you think of any landmarks? Places you always see when Charizard takes you?”

“Not really, but I know it’s by the city’s main entrance. I should know the rest of the way from there.”

Should not _will_.

Still, Hop doesn’t know where on Earth they’re headed, so he nods and sets his rotom phone for Hammerlocke’s center.Worst case scenario, they ask Charizard and risk the attention. It’s a much better option than sleeping on the street.

Thankfully, they make it over with little issue. Rotom seems especially put out by this, complaining about the lack of adventure, but Hop’s promise of an extra long charge placates them relatively easily.

“Well?” He glances expectantly at the champion, who gestures down the road past the Pokémon Center.

And what a surprise awaits them.

A tall, building—no, _castle_ —towers above them, all elegant spires, turrets, and terraces. It looms above the entirety of the city, so much so Hop has no idea how he hadn’t noticed it the entire walk over.

“The Dragon’s Den…” He whispers, eyes wide with wonder. Books and online images didn’t do it justice. _Nothing_ could.

“You’ve heard of it?” The champion asks, a slight smile on his face.

“The main battleground for the second and third imperial dragon scourges.” Hop recites from memory. Sonia didn’t have many books on it, but the internet was a glorious asset for a reason. “It almost fell during both, but Hammerlocke’s military was well-renowned, and its lords were always raised to be fierce soldiers to fight alongside their dragons. I think it’s the only old kingdom in all of Galar to have ever earned not one, but entire _species_ of dragon’s fealty, but I’m not sure.”

“We are. Hit the nail on the head, kid.”

Hop’s attention turns to the new arrival.

A lanky man, at least three or four Hop’s stacked on top of one another, walks towards them. Dressed in a flashy, fanged pullover and bright orange hairband, he saunters over with an easy smile, hooded eyes sleepy and relaxed.

“Can’t say there are too many who care about our history, but I appreciate that you do.” He tells Hop, tilting his head ever so slightly. “You do, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” Hop scoffs. What kind of silly question is that? “Galar’s history is important. Who are you?”

Tall guy laughs, revealing sharp, pointy canines. Hop is distinctly reminded of Sonia’s Yamper.

“You don’t mince words do you? I like that. Name’s Raihan. Welcome to Hammerlocke Stadium.”

Hop holds out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Raihan.”

Raihan grins and takes it.

“So polite. Country kids sure are somethin’ else.”

Hop blinks.

“How do you know I’m…?”

Raihan gestures to the champion.

“You’re the champ’s brother, aren’t you?” He raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m surprised you made it here at all.”

“He helped me.” The champion points to Hop. “Didn’t even need the ‘zard.”

“Nice.” Raihan turns his attention back to Hop, who is glancing between the two confused. “I’m guessing space case hasn’t told you anything, has he?”

“No, and I’d appreciate if he did.” Hop rounds on the champion “Why are we here?”

“This is where we’re going to live.” He says simply, as if it’s no big deal that they’ll be staying at one of Galar’s most important historical landmarks. “Do you like it?”

Raihan sighs heavily enough for Hop in response.

“Way to spring it on him, Lee.”

* * *

“All your stuff should be here. I set up your bed and desk where I thought would be good, but if you don’t like it, we can always change it around to suit you.” Raihan says, allowing him to take in everything. “Is the room all right? Enough space for you?”

It’s more than enough space. Hop’s old bedroom is dwarfed in comparison.

“This is all right. Thank you.”

“Anything not to your tastes, speak up and I’ll do my best to fix that. Any questions, just ask.”

“Okay.”

“And if you see any mons wandering around, don’t worry. They’re friendly. But if they’re bothering you or get too close for comfort, gimme a call and I’ll have them sorted. They like visitors, but Lee says you haven’t had much interaction besides Wooloos.”

“All right.”

Hop thinks that’ll be the end of it, but when he turns to get a better look at his closet, Raihan is still standing by the door, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Listen, kid…” He starts softly, looking Hop right in the eye. “Lee hasn’t told me everything, but he’s told me enough. I know you’re going through a rough time. If there’s anything I can do to make things easier, just say the word. This is your home, s’long as you want it to be. You’ve much a right to be here now as I do, so don’t be a stranger.” He pauses, biting his cheek. “Don’t think that you’re in this on your own. I hope that we can, y’know, get to know each other better. Maybe be friends, if you want. Lee’s important to me, so that means you are too. Doesn’t have to be mutual, but know that, okay?”

“Okay.” Hop stares down at his feet. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Ain’t nothing, kid.” Raihan shifts his weight. “I’m thinking of ordering in. Any preferences?”

“I don’t mind anything in particular.”

“Allergies?”

“None.”

“Gotcha. Guess I’ll leave you to it, then.” He turns to walk away.

“Um—!“ Hop finds himself uttering, despite the tightness of his throat.

Raihan stops.

“Yeah?”

“Th-Thank you.” He says, wringing his wrists. He needs to be a proper gentleman. That’s what his mother always taught him, especially when imposing himself in another’s home. “I-I’m sorry for barging in here and—Um, I didn’t want to intrude in your home and—I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t have to but—thank you. For letting me stay here and—thank you.”

“…It’s no trouble at all, Hop.” Raihan says, after a brief silence. “Y’know, Hammerlocke Stadium is a big place. It’s pretty easy to get lost in. Feels like it’ll swallow you whole if you’re not careful.”

Hop doesn’t look away from his feet.

“But it’s not always like that. When you’ve company, that’s when it’s really magical. Being able to hear someone’s voice all the way across the hall…that’s something special, isn’t it? So don’t apologize. I’m happy to have you here. I just hope you can be, too.”

With that, Raihan leaves him to his business.

Hop releases a heavy sigh, turning his attention to the boxes containing his belongings, and sets about organizing them.

It takes him well into the evening to make progress. His clothes are neatly folded and organized into his dresser, his books and journals aligned in alphabetical order on a new bookshelf he’s sure isn’t his. Perhaps it's Raihan’s? He should thank him for it, if that’s the case.

Eventually he gets to the more personal items. Boxes labeled fragile and do not touch and do not open. They’re mostly figurines and models wrapped in newspaper and tucked away in packing peanuts. Some are cheap and plastic, his mum or Sonia or Professor Magnolia having bought them for him at the local general store or whenever they ventured into the city. Others are ones he managed to slap together with whatever he could find around the house or yard. Twine, twigs and pieces of yarn stitched and glued into something resembling a Pokémon.They aren’t very good and some are downright indistinguishable, but everyone’s always said the opposite. Sonia complimented his craftsmanship and the professor never failed to ask after them during her visits. And his mum…

Hop remembers his how his mum used to like looking through them. Her favorite was always his horrible excuse for a Ho-Oh, the one he only made because she told him they were her favorite Pokémon.Its body is misshapen and its wings are made of Rookidee feathers painted with what looks to be centuries old acrylics.

Despite the messy, amateurish end product, she _loved_ it. Enough to display it in their living room, much to Hop’s eternal embarrassment. No matter how many times he begged her to put it away, to save him from his own shame, she refused.

Always insistent, always happy to gaze upon it with loving eyes.

Always so happy with Hop’s presents, even when they shouldn’t have been considered presents at all.

“You can stay here.” He whispers, picking the centermost position to display it.

Maybe one day, he could improve. Make a better one. One that would make his mum smile, just like she did all those years ago when he first gifted it to her.

Maybe he could make her smile again, whenever she was, one last time.

One's he finished setting those up, all that’s left is _the box_.

Hop hesitates. He _could_ get rid of it, finally be free of its contents and never have to think about them ever again.

He could.

He doesn’t.

Opening his new closet door, one with more space than the last, he shoves it inside, all the way to the back.

Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.

It may as well be tradition at this point.


	3. a place to call home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hop finds castles are lonely places.

It doesn’t take long to become acquainted with Hammerlocke Stadium.

But then, Hop doesn’t have anything else to do with his time. School doesn’t begin for another few weeks, the last stretch of summer slowly creeping closer, much to the displeasure of students everywhere.

In all honesty, Hop is rather anxious to start attending. Postwick did not boast a schoolhouse and Wedgehurst’s was woefully underfunded, parents usually sending their children as far as Motostoke for schooling.

Hop used to make the journey as well. Then his mother collapsed, and the idea of leaving her for any amount of time terrified him so badly he refused to leave the house. She had no choice but to contract a home tutor, a role Sonia was more than willing to fill. He doubts Hammerlocke can offer the same quality of care and attention to his needs as she once did. At the very least, he hopes it can provide him with a much needed distraction from the suffocating atmosphere around the stadium.

He and the champion had spoken nary a word to each other since their initial arrival. Hop found it much easier to avoid him altogether, taking care to slip out of view or be somewhere else whenever he happened to be around. It took a bit of tricky maneuvering and skulking around, but by the end of the first week, Hop could somewhat gage when certain rooms would be free and when the strongest trainer in all the land was set to disappear, headed who knows where to do who knows what a champion on ‘ _indefinite personal leave_ ’ does.

The only difficult part is dinner, where they’re forced together by obligation (hop rises before dawn and the champion never stops by for lunch). Hop’s manners don’t allow for such a blatant discourtesy as eating in his room and Galar’s best is always back by evening.

It’s awkward and uncomfortable. Not even Raihan’s light-hearted chatter fully alleviates the tension. Thankfully, he's very considerate about it and never forces them into direct conversation.

Hop feels bad about it. Here they are taking up space in his home and yet Raihan can’t even have them in the same room without having to walk on eggshells. He’s half tempted to call Sonia and ask if he can stay with her after all, even if mooching off Sonia isn’t any better than mooching off Raihan.

In the end, he doesn't. Hop keeps his mouth shut, does chores to assuage his guilt even when Raihan tells him he doesn’t have to, and continues avoiding the big, dumb, purple Charizard in the room.

And when he isn’t avoiding, he’s exploring.

The stadium’s winding halls aren’t so daunting once he’s able to map them out in his head. He manages to get the general gist of where he is and isn’t allowed to go. Never all the way down and never all the way up, not without supervision, at least.Apparently, there’s a power plant at the bottom most level, something Hop doesn’t know how to feel about and which Raihan reassures him is perfectly safe, despite not looking entirely sure of that himself.

Hop would rather not think about it.

Instead, he thinks about other things, like the historical significance of the place. Hammerlocke’s as old as Galar itself, making it an absolute treasure trove of history and folklore. There’s something to be said about what history can teach about repeating mistakes, a lesson Professor Magnolia always enjoyed reiterating, so Hop figures it’s as good a time as any to peruse information straight from the source. He only has to flippantly mention it to Raihan before he’s granted full, unfeathered access to the tomes, so long as he respects and returns them to their proper order once he’s done.

Hop takes full advantage of the privilege, spending the majority of his time there. He finds it’s a good place to be alone in general, because nobody ever stops by.

It’s a bit dusty, though.

He takes the liberty of sprucing the place up, getting rid of dust bunnelbys and wiping away any cobwebs he comes across. A nest of Joltik scare the living daylights out of him at one point, their beady eyes unnerving him. In spite of this, he settles their small colony by a nearby electrical outlet, where they toss him appreciative glances before disappearing into the sockets.

Cleaning is a tedious process, but it gives him _something_ to do. Something to take his mind off everything that’s happened.

And maybe that means being alone in a big, kinda scary, kinda dark castle he doesn’t think has a place for him. It’s probably for the best. He needs to get used to it eventually, doesn’t he? He can’t rely on anyone to make things better, or give him hugs and kisses like his mum used to. She isn’t here, so he needs to buckle down and keep his head on straight.

That means no more tears. He can’t be any more of a burden than he already is, not when Sonia’s worried about him and Raihan’s sacrificed much of his time and resources into helping Hop integrate (however clumsily) into this new life of his. He needs to keep busy, keep moving, keep distracted, stay out of the way, not be a hassle, because if he doesn’t, he won’t ever learn how to be on his own.

So Hop cleans and reads and avoids, because avoiding is easy and means he doesn’t have to deal with the dumb champion and his dumb hat and his dumb uniform. Maybe if Hop never sees him, he can pretend he _doesn’t_ exist. That he _never_ came for Hop and that it was his own choice to come to Hammerlocke and earn the pity of its kind gym leader.

Maybe then, he could pretend that the champion is still all the way up in Wyndon, in his stupid stadium with his stupid sponsors drinking his stupid energy drinks where he belongs, because it was never in Postwick.What would a champion want with a stupid hick town like theirs, anyway?

 _what a git_ , Hop thinks, angrily, when he’s scrubbing down the library’s floors. They’re absolutely _filthy_ and he can’t stand how they don’t shine as bright as the shelves he’s polished. Part of him is tempted to ask why Raihan hasn’t done anything about it. However, that would mean speaking to him for longer than is necessary and risk him questioning why Hop is intent on cleaning them in the first place, which Hop doesn’t want to explain because that would mean admitting that he is avoiding them and he’d rather not do that, because it sounds cowardly and pathetic. 

He would rather keep this to himself.

Unfortunately, he isn’t granted that mercy, because _eventually_ , his absence catches _someone’s_ attention and they come knocking. At least it isn’t Galar’s sweetheart.

“Is this where you’ve been?”

Hop grunts, focus not straying from a particularly stubborn stain. How many more blasts of liquid floor cleaner would be necessary before the chemicals burn a hole through the floor, he wonders.

“Y’know, when I said you were welcome to do what you want, I didn’t think that’d mean cleaning this place top to bottom.” Raihan ambles towards him, coming to rest against a nearby table. He glances around with a wince. “I was planning on getting it presentable. Guess you beat me to it. Forgot it was this bad to be honest. Shoulda checked before I told you about it.”

“It’s fine.” Hop says tersely. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Still, you could have told me.” Raihan tells him, running a hand through his dreadlocks. “Coulda helped you out.”

“It’s fine.” Hop repeats. He doesn’t want help. The point of this is that he can be alone and not have to think. “I can do it.”

“Doesn’t mean you should.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Hop sits up, looking back at him. “Am I overstepping?”

“No, _no_. It ain’t _that_.” Raihan quickly clarifies. “What I’m saying is I wouldn’t mind helping you.”

“Aren’t you busy?”

“Not really. Season’s good as over. It’s all paperwork and sponsorship nonsense for me.” Raihan runs a finger over the table’s molding, grimacing at the thick coating of dust that gives way. “Would you believe me if I said I meant to have this place spotless before you came?”

“It’s not as if I gave you notice.” Hop replies quietly. “I don’t blame you.”

“Well I do.” Raihan rolls up his sleeves, snatching a few of the cleaning supplies Hop pilfered from a nearby supply closet. “What should I work on, kid? Give me direction.”

“You don’t have to help.”

“I know, but I want to, so where should I start?”

It is with great reluctance that Hop gives in and directs him to work on anything that needs cleaning, which isn’t much on account of Hop’s persistence the last few days.

However, where he expects them to work in silence, he is mistaken, because Raihan takes it upon himself to ask rather mundane questions, ranging from his favorite color (orange), to his thoughts on homework (it’s all right) , and even his favorite Pokémon.

“Everyone’s got a favorite and it usually says a lot about them, so I’m curious. What’s yours?”

“I don’t have one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ I don’t have one.” Hop says, clicking his tongue when he spots another terrified Joltik hidden just below a bookcase. He picks it up gently, careful not to crush it. “I don’t—I’m not really interested in Pokémon.” He walks across the room to deposit the little creature. It gazes up at him for a brief moment before disappearing into the socket, presumably with the rest of the group.

When Hop turns around, it’s to find Raihan staring at him, slack-jawed.

Annoyed, he scowls.

“What?” Hop demands, a tad defensive. “Is that weird?”

“Of course not. Just…unexpected, I guess.” Raihan frowns. “You and Lee couldn’t be more different.”

That’s where Hop’s mood takes a complete nosedive.

“No, I guess we _couldn’t_.” He spits out, venom lacing his words. “It isn’t as if we’re, I don’t know, _different_ people. I wasn’t aware it was a requirement for me to be like him.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Whatever.” Hop strides back to the bookshelf he was working on, throwing himself onto the floor. “If you came by just to compare me to him, then I’d rather you not be here at all. Why not hang out with him instead of wasting your time with me? You’d be better off for it.”

“Hop, that isn’t what I was trying to say.”

“I don’t care.”

“Hop—“

“Can you please leave?”

Raihan does, after a few tense moments. Hop doesn’t watch him go. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. Doesn’t want to think about how different he is from his brother. He got enough of that back home, why should he be expected to tolerate it here?

 _what a git_ , Hop thinks, unsuccessfully holding back angry tears.

It seems no matter where he went or who he spoke to, the boy born a decade before always demanded his unearned deference.

* * *

Raihan doesn’t return to the library.

Hop is grateful. If things were uncomfortable before, they’re even worse now. Raihan keeps giving him these strange, thoughtful looks that irritate him to no end and the champion is still as skittish as ever in his presence.

Hop doesn’t understand why.

He doesn't understand anything about him.

He doesn’t understand why he leaves at odd hours of the day, doesn’t understand why he suddenly has so many bandages (charizard ones of course) around his fingers, doesn’t understand why he’s not in Wyndon, doesn’t understand why he can leave notes for Hop but not look him in the eye on the rare occasions them speaking is necessary and unavoidable.

Hop doesn’t understand why he and Raihan bother with the kitchen, when each and every time it results in smoke and screams and the fire alarm going off and them ordering take out and trying not to look ashamed of themselves.

Hop also doesn’t understand why it keeps happening late into the night, when _nobody_ should be cooking in the first place. He tries eavesdropping once, but all he can make out are muffled curses and the two arguing over measurements and substitutes, which isn’t all that interesting or informative, so he goes back to bed and tries not to think of how the stench of smoke is slowly becoming imbedded into all his clothing and furniture.

Hiding away in the library is a wonderful mercy in comparison, where he can read books. Ones where village boys become knights and kings are overthrown and the sun rises upon a new era of prosperity.

They’re childish tales, similar to the ones his mum used to read to him. Hop likes them and their fantastical yet simple approaches to conflict. He burns through volume after volume, until his eyes ache and rotom begins to whine about being more than a flashlight and how little respect is afforded to them and their boundless utility.

It’s only when the sun is beginning to set one peaceful evening, that another visitor arrives.

One of a non-human variety.

“Um…is something wrong?”

Duraludon shakes his head, but otherwise, makes no movement to leave.

Hop isn’t sure what to do. He’s _aware_ of Pokémon. That isn’t the equivalent of being comfortable around them. The closest he’s ever gotten is distantly watching Rookidees, scaring Skwovets away from their berry bushes and looking after the flock of Wooloo they used to own, sold off after his mother’s condition took a turn for the worse.

The thing is, Raihan and the champion’s Pokémon are _not_ Wooloos.

They are large and imposing, battle hardened and fierce. They unnerve Hop.

He avoids them the best he can.

He avoids everyone, really.

“N-No?” Hop cowers away, perturbed by the intensity with which Duraludon is gazing at him, as if he could see through to his very soul. Maybe he could. Hop wouldn’t know. He’s never read their Pokédex entry. “A-All right.”

He turns his attention back to the book in his hands, believing that to be the end of the exchange.

It isn’t. Duraludon continues to stand there, staring.

Hop is suitably unnerved.

“D-Did you…need something from me?” He asks when it becomes clear Duraludon is there for him and not anyone else. “Have I done something wrong?”

Duraludon jolts, flailing his arms back and forth vigorously. He looks…nervous?

“No?” Hop tilts his head. “Then…did you want to tell me something?”

Duraludon nods.

“Okay. What is it?”

The dragon gestures between the two of them, then towards the doors, miming the act of walking.

“You want me to go with you?” Another nod. “Why?”

This is where the gestures get a little unintelligible. That’s probably Hop’s fault for expecting him to answer with an explanation when there is a clear language barrier between them.

He’s surprised by how far they’ve managed to get at all, if he’s being honest. He wasn’t aware he _could_ be understood. Sonia’s Yamper certainly never showed an inkling of understanding when it came to telling him _not_ to gnaw on his trainers.

“I…think I get you?” It’s clear he’s wanted for _something_ , so Hop quickly shuts the book and trots off to place it back where he found it.

When he returns, Duraludon is patiently awaiting him by the doors.

“You’re pretty fast.” Hop comments as they make their way down the hall. Duraludon seems like a Pokémon that would be weighed down by their metal. He’s outpacing Hop with relative ease.

Duraludon looks back at him before slowing his pace ever so slightly.

Hop smiles at the courtesy.

“It’s okay. I’m just surprised. You’re faster than you seem.” He gets a shy look in return. Another discrepancy with his appearance, Hop notes with interest. Similar to his trainer in that regard. “I bet that’s, uh, useful for battles? You can catch your opponents off guard that way. I think? Unless everyone knows that. Then I guess it isn’t all that useful…” He trails off. “Sorry. Ignore me. I don’t know much about battling.”

They end up taking the elevator down to the lobby at Duraludon’s request (how he’s capable of operating it is beyond Hop’s comprehension).

The lobby is completely empty and devoid of life when they arrive, save for the light coming from the main arena’s direction. Duraludon guides him towards it.

“Hey, I don’t think we’re supposed to go there…” Hop tells him, confused. Duraludon keeps walking, gesturing for him to follow. “Are you sure about this? I really don’t think—“

His next words are cut off.

Hop finds himself nearly having a full on _heart attack_ when a barrage of loud, popping noises, followed by a deluge of confetti blasts him in the face, strips of rainbow colored paper beaning him in the head and getting stuck in his mouth. Matters are not helped by the various different, loud and downright _terrifying_ screeches that nearly burst his ear drums due to their proximity. Hop falls to his knees in fright, clutching his chest.

“ _Arceus_.” He wheezes, wiping away the tears that sprung from his eyes from sheer terror.

It takes a few moments for him to fully comprehend what’s happening, but when he does, he is not any closer to actually understanding what on _Earth_ is going on.

He is surrounded by Pokémon, large and imposing, holding onto _party poppers_.

Sharp claws, sharp teeth, permanent glares on their faces, and holding _party poppers_.

What truly kills the illusion of intimidation, though, are the party hats haphazardly strapped to their heads, some already in the process of falling off.

What _is_ this?

“What…?” Hop utters, completely lost.

“Are you all right?” Raihan suddenly rushes into view, expression mortified. “That was supposed to be a lot less terrifying for you than it was, I _swear_!”

“ _What_?”

“Uh—“ The champion appears from behind Raihan, holding a poorly put together banner with what Hop assumes is his name stitched onto it, the word _welcome_ lopsided and nearly illegible above it. “This was—I’m not sure what we were expecting…”

Hop looks to Duraludon, who sheepishly holds his arms out to help him. Hop accepts them, rising to his feet, taking another look at everyone staring at him and asks the main question of the hour.

“What?”

“I’m not sure what we were trying to accomplish.” Raihan begins, fiddling with his hairband. “It’s just—I don’t think we started things off in the best way? I was planning on preparing something, but time got away, and then you were here and didn’t want to speak to either of us so I thought, maybe we can make it special now?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” Hop replies. “Please explain.”

“A welcome party.” Raihan clarifies with a grimace, pointing at the tables behind them, filled with finger foods and pastries of all kinds. A few of them look burnt and misshapen.

Actually, most of them do.

“For you.” Leon adds, still not looking him in the eye, the _coward_. “You should feel welcome here with us. If you want.”

“I said it, didn’t I?” Raihan smiles weakly. “This stadium is your home now too, s’long as you want it to be. Its rooms and halls and books. _All of it_ is yours now. And I think our mons agree.”

Hop blinks, turning to the Pokémon.

Goodra is the first to bound over, all cheerful croons and smiles as she places a party hat on his head to match her own. Flygon follows next, blowing his party horn at him. Soon, Hop is surrounded by over enthusiastic mons, his knees and legs and face butted against with an unprecedented affection.

Even Charizard, the monster from his _nightmares_ , brushes his snout against Hop’s cheek, as if he’s done anything to deserve it.

“I-I don’t—“ Hop stammers, stepping back, fists clenched. “This isn’t necessary. I don’t—You didn’t _need_ to—to _do this_ for me. I d-don’t n-need it.”

“Maybe.” Raihan says, his expression kind, his voice gentle. “But we’d like to give it to you anyway.”

Beside him, Leon nods, looking off into the corner of the arena.

Hop doesn’t know what to do. How is he supposed to respond to this? Thank them? Apologize? Leave and pretend it never happened?

No, that would be rude, and if there’s anything his mother taught him, it was to never take the courtesy of others for granted. Despite his behavior the other day, Raihan still willingly prepared this for him, when he didn’t need to. When he could’ve labeled Hop not worth the trouble and let him be.

And despite _everything_ , the champion did as well.

Hop cannot in good faith spoil their efforts. He’s a gentleman, and a gentleman can’t scoff at the good will of others.

Breaking apart from the group, Hop walks towards the table set out with the, frankly, disgusting looking food. He doesn’t know how to feel about the Charizard themed table sheet beneath it. 

He picks at random, some circular, crumbly looking piece of charred cookie? It may as well be coal.

He takes a bite.

It’s not the _worst_ thing he’s ever eaten. His mum held the title of ‘ _menace to kitchens everywhere_ ’ in their household for a reason.

And this is just as bad, but…

“From now on,” Hop finally says, not turning around to gage any reactions. “Let _me_ handle the cooking.”

* * *

The festivities aren’t anything grandiose, but they are enlightening.

It doesn’t take long to discover the menacing creatures trained for battle are quite docile in nature. Hop ends up playing various games like fetch and catch and climbing onto nearly everyone’s back at their own insistence, paraded around in a strange competition of _who can go the fastest while the small child clings onto them for dear life._

Surprisingly, Duraludon ends up winning that competition. Or maybe unsurprisingly, because Duraludon being quick on their feet is knowledge Hop has now.

Haxorus is especially petty about it. A few hesitant pats on the back from Hop though and she comes around sooner than what her ferocious exterior implies.

And really, he _shouldn’t_ be surprised when this leads to _everyone_ wanting pats from him.

It’s actually pleasant, in a really weird and strange way, to give pats to Pokémon who could otherwise shred him to pieces with their claws if they felt like it, but are choosing not to because _pats_.

Raihan pulls him aside to apologize for any discomfort he may have caused at one point too. Hop waves him off, because him throwing a tantrum is embarrassing enough as it is, especially towards the one person who’s done everything to accommodate and make Hop feel welcomed.

The champion keeps a respectful distance, but for once, meets his eyes and offers something resembling a smile.

Hop doesn’t return it, but he _does_ offer a slight nod in acknowledgment, which is enthusiastically returned about a dozen times over, as if he’s a bobblehead gone rogue and not the man standing at the top of Galar’s world. It’s silly, but Hop keeps that to himself.

He may as well be cordial if they’re going to keep up the whole _living under the same roof_ situation.

* * *

After all is said and done and Hop is back in his room (not before getting accosted by a competitive Goodra and Haxorus over who would get the last head pat of the night from him), something peculiar happens.

Just as Hop’s about to call it a day and bury himself beneath his blankets, a sudden knocking at the window startles him. Hop glances towards it, expecting it to be a stray rookidee causing a ruckus.

There’s silence.

Then.

Another knock.

He rises to his feet, slowly creeping towards the window, light on his feet. Grabbing the curtains, he pulls them aside.

There’s…

…a Corvisquire.

Not a Rookidee, but close.

He nearly shuts the curtains when it starts pecking at the window again, looking at Hop with barely concealed disdain. It isn’t until he takes a better look at them that something catches his eye.

Around its neck is a clip and attached to that, paper.

Against his better judgment, Hop opens the window as quietly as he can. The Corvisquire huffs, pointedly puffing his chest out.

“For me?” Hop asks, confused.

The Pokémon nods. Hop takes it and, not a moment later, the Corvisquire flies back off into the night, disappearing into the darkness.

It’s an envelope, Hop realizes. Adding to his surprise, he finds his name written on it in familiar handwriting.

 _Very_ familiar handwriting.

Swallowing thickly, Hop carefully breaks the seal. He tugs the contents out slowly, unsure of whether he even _wants_ to know what they are.

Fingers shaking, he unfolds the letter and reads the first line.

_to my sunshine, moonlight, and clear blue skies_

Barely containing the startled cry threatening to escape his throat, Hop’s eyes dart to the bottom of the page, to the sender, because it can’t be it can’t be _it can’t_ —

_with much love and many many hugs kisses and cheek pinches_

_mummy_

It is.

It’s from his mum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aha! this fic is heavily inspired by episode 10 of violet evergarden. it's a bittersweet but incredibly beautiful story.  
> i hope i can do it justice!


	4. letters from heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a letter arrives and proper introductions are had

_to my sunshine, moonlight, and clear blue skies,_

~~_how wonderful to speak to you in the wake of what I assume to be a lovely morning, or day, or night, or whatever time of day it happens to be_ ~~

_bleh. isn’t fancy talk writing so stuffy and boring? magnolia suggested being formal, but that’s no fun at all. i don’t think you’d appreciate a pretentious letter either, would you, sweetheart? you hate that sort of pretense!_

_now, where to begin?_ ~~_this is the most important one and i’m already mucking it up_~~

_i’ve written this letter hundreds of times. written the same words over and over and over again, but it never feels like it’s enough. there’s so much I want to say, so much I want to to teach you before you head off into the big ole world out there._

~~_but I can’t can i_ ~~

_how about we start off simple? that’s the best way to get things rolling, i think. maybe it’ll loosen up the thoughts in my noggin_ _and make it easier to express what it is i want to say._

_in an orderly fashion, of course. i’m getting better at that! who do you think organized the spice rack, hmm? that was all mummy! she’s finally learning to follow your example. you’re so neat and precise, hop. nothing like me!_

_ahh i’m getting sidetracked. you’re so much better at this writing thing than I am, dear. i wish i could ask you for help, but alas, you are asleep in your room and the entire point is that you don’t see this. not until it’s time._

_so let’s begin, shall we?_

_i won’t beat around the bush. i know you wouldn’t want me to._

_i’m not with you anymore, am i?_

_uhh please ignore the stains above please?? the ceiling is leaking! it’s those accused skwovets! what I wouldn’t do to chuck them the next continent over. maybe to kalos. do you think that would cause an international incident? can’t say i’d care, long as they take those_ ~~_damn_~~ _rodents off our hands. always stealing my_ ~~_damn_~~ _berries._

_anyway._

_i’m really not there with you anymore, am I?_

~~_i can’t believe it_ ~~

_but that’s okay_ _~~no it’s not~~_ _sweetheart! it’s okay that i’m not there!_ ~~_it’s not it’s not it’s not_~~

_want to know why?_

_because you’re the strongest boy i know. i hope you've realized that after all these years of taking care of your silly mummy. i couldn’t be prouder. i’m so blessed to have such a kind, brave, and considerate son!_

_you know, there’s no where i’d rather be than with you right now, reading this silly letter and laughing at what a kook i am._

_you know that, don’t you? that i would do anything to be with you? absolutely anything. i’d steal all the stars in the night sky, part oceans, move mountains._

_anything._

_the person you grow up to be, i want to see who they are so much. so very much._

_i know you’ll be wonderful and successful and every bit the hero you’ve always been to me. you’ve saved me so many times, hop. more times than I can count, and more times than you’ll ever know. again and again, without even knowing it._

_there’s no better hero than one who doesn’t realize that they’re saving anyone in the first place, i think._

_but I’m getting lost in the weeds here. you already know how great you are_ ~~_i hope._~~ __

_there’s a point to this, one that i’ve thought over for the longest time, because I know i can’t be with you forever. i know, so i thought and thought and thought some more about what i could do and gave myself a fever thinking and lied and told you i left the window open you were so upset i’m sorry_

_i thought long and hard, hop. about how best to go about this. and i think i came up with a good strategy._

_i call it the ‘ **l**_ ** _ ** _e_** t’s help hop get back on his feet plan’_ ** _or_ **_LHHGBOHFP_ ** _for short._

 _because I know you’re unsure and don’t know what’s going to happen next. not even I know that, as much as i wish i did._ ~~_i wish i did I wish I could help i wish iw wshi i wish_~~

_but that’s what the power of preparation is for, isn’t it? just like when you and Sonia go over those flashcards of yours before a big test, until all you live and breathe are those funny formulas i can’t make heads or tails of. it’s the same thing._

_so never fear! mum is here! with a plan! for once! she’ll be your hero this time and help you the way you’ve always helped her. we’re a team after all, and that’s what teams do. support and better each other._

_even if we’re apart, no matter the distance, no matter how much time passes, nothing will ever change that, hop. it’s you and me forever and ever! the ultimate dream team!_

_so i’ve planned_ **_LHHGBOHFP_ ** _to the best of my ability. so well in fact, you’ll be in absolute awe of my masterful planning skills. i’ve put together all my best ideas, amazing advice and invaluable nuggets of wisdom. a treasure trove of enlightenment, really. i’m sure you’re already weeping with gratitude, for it isn’t just anyone who is bestowed upon with my intellectual superiority!_

_stop giving me that look!_

_yes, you know the one!_

_be grateful, spawn of greatness and untamable bed head!_

_(i jest)_

_(not really)_

_don’t worry, though. you won’t be bored at all. i’ve got lots of interesting stories to share with you. ones i wish i could tell in person_ ~~_ones that are better off being told in person_~~ _to see your reaction. i’m a well rounded and multi-faceted individual, you see. a shining jewel amongst the rabble._

_i can tell you’re rolling your eyes, hip-hop. not nice!_

_but before you put on your skepticals, how about i tell you something interesting i heard once? something that justifies this entirely feasible plan of mine?_

_the words we want to say are often the words we cannot bring ourselves to say_

_i think there’s a lot of truth to that, so i’ve decided to fully embrace it._

_the words i want to tell you, the things i want you to know, i couldn’t say them when i was still with you. i want to remedy that and help you move forward, because i know you’re sad and overwhelmed and maybe just want to hide away forever and never see daylight ever again._

_you’ve always done that._

~~_we couldn’t be more alike_ ~~

_but you can’t do that anymore, hop. you mustn’t hide away. you need to carry onward, like you’ve always done. no matter how sad or scary or difficult things get, you need to keep on moving forward._

_it’s the only thing you can do, darling._

_even if that means i’m not with you anymore._

_with much love and many many hugs kisses and cheek pinches,_

_mummy_

* * *

It’s only after a fifth and sixth reading that Hop fully comprehends what it is he’d holding in his hands.

From the messy penmanship, to the pale lavender paper, to the slightly crumpled and worn edges, likely tugged and rubbed at by anxious fingertips. Everything screams his mother’s handiwork.

And there’s something about that, the thought of his mum hunched over, face scrunched up in concentration as she struggled to sit still long enough to write to him, that brings a smile to his face. Knowing she sat down to write _anything_ willingly, of her own volition, when she hated tedious tasks like that is—

His mother prepared this for him. Kept it from him. To send _after_ —

She knew she wouldn’t make it. She knew she would be leaving him and never coming back.

She knew.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Hop collapses onto his bed, holding the letter up above him.

The _LHHGBOHFP._

His mother had probably cackled wildly after coming up with such a simple and easily memorizable acronym like that, he thinks wryly, unable to quell the quiet laughter that escapes him. He’s not entirely sure what she meant by a plan, nor by her supposed nuggets of wisdom, but then, she was always so cryptic about the strangest things.

Now that he thought about it, she was cryptic about _most_ things, strangely enough. For all her boisterous personality, she shared very little about her life prior to Hop’s birth. He recalls asking every once in a while, curious about his mother’s childhood. She would always wave him off with a smile and say it was nothing worth talking about.

Nothing he would be interested in.

Apparently, that was never the case, if she’s bragging about the interesting stories she’s been wanting to share with him this entire time. In the form of another letter perhaps? Hop isn’t even sure how this one made it to him.

He wasn’t even aware Corvisquire _could_ deliver letters.

Did anyone deliver letters anymore? Wasn’t it more efficient to send emails or instant messages? And how had she known where he would end up ahead of time, anyway? Is she mailing them from beyond the grave or was the responsibility handed off to another party before her death?

Or is this all an elaborate, practical joke set up by the universe taking pity on a grief stricken boy who misses his mummy?

He doesn’t know. Thinking about it only raises more questions than Hop has the energy to answer. The emotional whiplash is taking its toll on his ability to keep his eyes open, the lateness of the day further adding to his exhaustion.

With great reluctance, Hop sets the letter on his nightstand. Giving it one last, long look, he allows his eyes to flutter shut, his breathing evening out, until he’s lost to the land of slumber.

That night, Hop dreams of sunset inked skies and long shadows stretching across grassy fields.

* * *

The morning brings with it a new set of challenges.

Least of all, the cooking.

Hop finds it pleasantly distracting and, if he tries hard enough, can almost pretend he’s back at home, preparing breakfast for his slugabed of a mum who hated getting up in the morning more than anything else.

Of course, the illusion is broken when the two figures who appear at the doorway are both over six feet and lack any of his mother’s creative verbal prose for how dreadful daybreak is. He supposes there’s a different sort of quirkiness to the way Raihan babbles nonsense about like to retweet ratios as he sets about feeding the restless pokémon and how the champion lacks _any_ sense of decorum, face pressed against the kitchen table, messy mop of hair sticking up in ways gravity shouldn't allow.

 _Genetics at its worst_ , Hop muses, lamenting his own hair’s inability to _not_ make him look like a sentient pinecone.His mum said he would grow into it. If his legal guardian’s current appearance is what he has to look forward to, he would rather stick to his sad, sentient pinecone existence. Brushing all that hair must be a pain.

Once Hop exemplifies his ability not to turn sustenance into charred disappointment, receiving effusive compliments from Raihan, who takes no less than a dozen pictures of the neatly put together platter, and a more reserved and carefully tailored response from the champion, he heads off to prepare himself for the day.

The difficulty comes _after_ that, because once he’s showered and dressed and about to head offto explore or read or do anything really, he runs into an issue.

There are Dreepy in his shoes.

“Uh...hi?”

One of their bottoms twitches in acknowledgment, their upper body lost somewhere between the sole and heel. The other stares at him, chewing on his laces.

Hop stares back, unsure of what to do. Yesterday’s warm reception or not, the unease he feels around Pokémon still hasn’t fully alleviated itself. It would undoubtably take time and proper acclimation. He's simply glad to know his place within the stadium isn’t being contested by a fire breathing _non-dragon type_ ( _which doesn’t make sense_ he and sonia needed to have a conversation about that) and the literal guardians of Hammerlocke.

Although, in this case, he isn’t nearly as nervous.

Dreepy _are_ pretty cute, after all.

“I kinda need those.” He points to the ratty canvas sneakers currently being held hostage. “Not that I need permission to wear them, since they’re _mine_ , but…please?”

The upright lace chewer Dreepy glances between him and the shoe until finally, they float up, pulling the other out by the tail in the process.

“Thanks.” He quickly ties them on, assuming they would leave and have their fun elsewhere. However, when he looks up, he finds them _still_ staring, right into the depths of his very soul. Could ghost types do that?Probably.

“Yes?” Hop asks, rising to his feet. The Dreepy follow him up, one settling itself atop the other’s head while the other shifts their pupils into slits, further narrowing the line of their mouth.

It takes a moment for it to click.

“…Dragapult?” Hop guesses, earning enthusiastic nods from both. “Probably outside. I saw him head out with your trainer, but I could be wrong. Why not check there?”

They glance at one another, contemplating his suggestion, before doing the exact opposite, perching themselves upon his shoulders and not leaving to go in search of their parent(?).

“You know I can’t launch you like he does.” Hop tells them dryly. It really is incredible to witness. The sight of two Dreepys rocketing out of a Dragapult at mach two speeds, phasing through several walls before returning for another round isn't the most relaxing way to start a morning.

Admittedly, it was far more interesting than the usual Postwick fare.

In this case, neither Dreepy is especially perturbed by his inability to catapult them into a different dimension, refusing to relent their claims on his shoulders.

Hop sighs, figuring there’s no use in trying to persuade them otherwise.

He leaves his room, stubborn Dreepy in tow, and heads for the terrace, if such a large and open space can still be considered one. The exuberant tastes of royalty long past gone would forever allude Hop, not that he couldn't appreciate the architecture.

Hop slides the glass doors open, stepping out into the early afternoon sunlight. Opposite them lies a tasteful patio set and beyond that, a gaggle of Pokémon causing a ruckus, including Dragapult.

Unfortunately, their trainer is there too, which isn’t very ace at all.

“Can’t you guys take it from here?” Hop pleads, anxious to leave and go do something else.

The Dreepy do not find it within themselves to exhibit any amount of mercy. They refuse to continue without him.

“Fine.” Hop mutters, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket. He strides over casually, garnering attention only when Charizard snaps his head over to acknowledge him, his trainer following suit.

“Hop.” The Champion greets, rubbing an affectionate hand over Charizard’s snout. “How are you?”

“Not any different than I was an hour ago.” Hop responds airily. “Your Dreepy are looking for your Dragapult.”

“They have names, y’know.” The Champion says, raising an eyebrow. Hop forcefully represses the flush threatening to color his face at the reprimand, biting his cheek to hold back a snippy remark in return. “They’re a lot more responsive to them, not that it’s made a difference when it comes to you."

“I don’t know their names.” Hop mutters, embarrassed for not having bothered to ask. It hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Well, this is Arthur.” He gestures to Charizard, who breaks away from his coddling to approach him. “He’s especially fond of you.”

“We play fetch one time and that’s all it takes?” Hop questions, hesitantly raising a hand to lay below Arthur’s chin. His skin is warm and rough, marred with scars. His fangs disconcert Hop, but when Arthur only passively leans into his touch, directing what could be considered a pleased smile at him, he gets a grip on his nerves. “Weirdo.”

The jab doesn’t nothing to deter Arthur. He huffs a breath of hot air into Hop’s face, although it’s nothing menacing, more playful in nature.

“What about the others?”

“Hm?”

“The others.” Hop repeats impatiently, rubbing the satisfied Arthur’s horns. “Their names.”

“Oh.” Leon gestures to Dragapult, hovering a few feet away, and an irritated Haxorus, who could not look more mutinous at the smug looks being sent her way by Arthur. “Galahad and Mordred.”

“Huh.” Hop watches as Arthur steps back, not before sticking his tongue out at Mordred, and shoots off into the sky, Dragapult collecting his Dreepy before following closely behind. Mordred is left fuming from solid ground. “I thought you were trying to be inconspicuous. Won’t everyone see them?”

“PR and legal are taking care of it now.” The champion stares out at the sky, following the two figures darting after each other playfully. “Cease and desists are useful sometimes.”

"Hm." Hop soothes Mordred the grumpy Haxorus when she stomps over and demands attention. He avoids her sharp tusks, careful not to knick his fingers on the blades. She hunches over, nuzzling the tip of her armored beak on his cheek. Hop returns the gesture, unsure of whether the strangled growl she produces is a positive reaction or one that indicates she is liable to tear him to shreds.

It’s the former. She drags him closer, considerately keeping her tusks out of range. It’s a simple task given how easily she towered over him.

“Are you sure you’ve never dealt with anything besides Wooloo?”

“What?” Hop looks away from Mordred, facing the champion’s befuddled expression.

“It’s just…you’re a natural.” He says, pointing between Hop and Mordred. “She never warms up to people this quickly. It took weeks to get her to pay attention to me. Even longer to accept an order.”

“Maybe you’re just a bad trainer.” Hop suggests spitefully, smugness welling within him as Mordred continues to lavish him with affection. To think he would be able to one up the reigning king himself. What would his mother say, he wonders?

 _I don’t even know anymore_ , Hop concludes bitterly, after a moment of thought, one specific instance replaying itself again within his memories. He hastily reburies it within the recesses of his mind. It doesn’t matter anymore. It probably didn’t mean anything in the first place.

“Might be.” Despite his antagonism, the champion responds good-naturedly. It irks Hop, but egging him on further wouldn’t be advisable in front of his Pokémon, Mordred’s endearment to him notwithstanding. Dragon’s tended to be protective of their allies, after all. “I’m glad.”

“About what?” Hop scoffs. “That your Pokémon like me better?”

“I was hoping for it, actually.”

Unsure of how to respond to that, Hop settles for not responding at all. The silence is short-lived however, as Raihan bursts onto the terrace shortly after.

“Hey Hop!” He calls out with a grin. “Wanna head down to the office? Got some people I want you to meet. You can come too, Lee.”

“I’m fine.” Leon waves him off. “Think I’ll stay here for a bit longer.”

“Suit yourself. C’mon, kid!”

Hop disentangles himself from Mordred, following after Raihan once he bids the lovely Mordredgoodbye.

“Everything okay?” Raihan asks quietly, once they’re on the elevator. “No issues?”

“No?” Hop eyes him strangely. “Why?”

“No reason.”

“Okay…?” Hop shrugs off the question. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What’re their names? Your Pokémon, I mean.”

* * *

“Hop, meet my aides Camilla and Sebastian. ‘milla and Sebi, meet my new pal, Hop. He’ll be staying with us from now on, so treat him as one of our own. ”

“Is he joining our ranks, bossman?” Camilla asks, offering her hand out to him. “Good idea. I can tell he’s got potential.”

“Nah, nothing like that.” Raihan laughs. “Unless he wants to. You interested in the position, short stuff?”

“What does an aide do?” Hop inquires, curious.

“Help with paperwork and clean up the break-room.” Sebastian answers. “Usually, we just follow our boss around with ring lights.”

“Why?”

“I ask myself that question everyday.”

“I don’t think I’m interested.” Hop decides. “Thank you for the offer.”

“Stop lying to children, Sebi.” Raihan scolds. “Don’t listen to him, Hop. We all get a lot of work done around here. The ring lights are just there to make sure we all look good while we’re at it.”

“Still not interested.”

“Damn. I mean, _darn_.”

Camilla and Sebastian take it upon themselves to spend the rest of the afternoon showing him around their offices on the ground level.

Hop enjoys their company. Camilla is cheerful, bubbly and talkative in the nicest of ways while Sebastian is the poster child for a beleaguered employee balancing three different jobs, an internship, and an existential crisis. Both are in year twelve and still trying to figure out what it is they want to do with their lives, a sentiment that earns sympathy from Hop. He’s witnessed Sonia struggle with those same feelings, and hated how often they ate away at her, her gran only making things worse with her indelicate and insensitive phrasing. Well-meaning perhaps, but with a bluntness that cut deep.

When it comes to Camilla and Sebastian's relationship with Raihan, it’s clear they have profound respect for him, the manner in which they listen to every word he says without interruption, regardless of whether it’s a joke or not, very telling.

An odd observation he happens to make is the bespoken ring lights lined up on the farther side of the room, along with various other devices likely used for better quality photography.

“He likes using the green screen.” Sebastian explains when he catches Hop eyeing it, glancing at Raihan with barely concealed exasperation. “It’s a _thing_ with his fans.”

“They eat it up!” Camilla chimes in. “Whoever can give the wackiest suggestion in the comments gets a shout out and a free dragon uniform. Everybody wins!”

“Do all gym leaders do this?” Hop asks, because if so, he would seriously need to reevaluate his idea of what exactly their job entailed and the supposed _serious_ _business_ that occurred in the _Dragon’s Den_ of all places. What would Great Lady Charlotte say about a _green screen_ taking up the space her spears once did?

“Only the cool ones.” Raihan responds, earning Great Lady Charlotte’s wrath from beyond the grave.

Hop doesn’t ask for any more elaboration.

The tour ends on the pitch, where Raihan sends Camilla and Sebastian to practice a few drills he’s taught them with their teams, leaving he and Hop to plop down on a nearby bench to watch.

“What do you think?” Raihan inquires as Camilla and Sebastian call out orders against one another, their Pokémon obeying without hesitation. “Thoughts?

“They’re nice.” Hop replies. “I like them.”

“I thought you would. They’re good kids, not fussy at all. I rely on them a lot.”

“To help with your ring lights and green screen?”

“With _work_ , but that too.” Raihan chuckles. “Another reason I like ‘em. They put up with my narcissism.”

“Isn’t owning five ring lights the opposite of narcissism?” Hop comments idly. “Even Sonia has one, and she’s one of the prettiest people I know.”

“Including me?”

Hop gives him a look.

“If you’re fishing for compliments, I’m not going to give you one.”

“Worth a try.”

Hop huffs, wincing as Ninetales slams into a Sliggoo, sending it flying across the field. It lets out a pained cry, but doesn’t give in, charging right back into the fray.

“Not a fan?” Raihan says after a beat of silence.

“Of what?”

“Battling.”

“No.” Hop states dully. “Not at all.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“Sure it does.” Raihan persists. “Can’t imagine doing anything else. All the kids I talk to are always excited about doin’ it themselves when they get older and here you are…”

“Not interested.”

“Exactly. Just want to understand your perspective.”

“There’s no big reason.” That’s a lie, but Hop’s not about to explain himself in detail, so he keeps his answer bare bones and simple. “I just…don’t like seeing mons get hurt is all. I know it’s for sport n’all and how they’re supposedly consenting to it, but it just rubs me the wrong way.”

“You think it’s abusive.”

“I think _people_ can be abusive.” Hop clarifies. “And that some people shouldn’t be trainers.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Raihan clicks his tongue. “I’ve seen my fair share of dumbasses—sorry, _dumb-dumbs_ —walk in here, acting like they’ve got everything figured out when their partners are barely even conscious from how hard they’ve been pushed. It’s sick.”

“Yeah.” Hop stares at his hands. “It is.”

Eventually, the practice session ends with a few comments and criticisms from Raihan. Camilla and Sebastian accept them with grace and promises to continue improving under his watchful eye.

Hop still doesn’t understand the appeal of battling, but to each their own. He parts from the trio shortly after and spends the rest of the day pattering around his room. The Dreepy are back, and now _both_ are gnawing on his shoelaces. He lets them play their games without a complaint. Dragapult, or rather _Galahad,_ checks in on them intermittently, until he decides it’s much easier to lounge on Hop’s bed and watch _Galar Rangers 24_ with him while his kids(?) amuse themselves with his footwear.

It’s not a bad way to spend his time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for reference 
> 
> charizard: Arthur  
> dragapult: Galahad  
> haxorus: Mordred
> 
> duraludon: Lulu  
> flygon: Flo  
> goodra: Dee


	5. innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leon fights fire with water. hop catches a shooting star.

_to my earth sun and stars,_

_how are you today, love?_

_i hope you’re eating well, have somewhere to play, have people you can count on, people you can rely on._

_i hope you’re okay._

_sorry. writing for the future is sort’ve a pain. not too sure whether i’ll be able to pull it off, but that won’t stop me. you’re getting these letters whether you like it or not!_

_part of what makes this so difficult is that i don’t know where you are. i have an idea, but i can’t be sure._

_i’ll try my best though. just for you, hop._

_like i said in the first letter, i thought a lot about the future ahead of you. i can’t say i can give you the answers for everything, i just hope i can shed some light on any problems you may face. sorry for the vagueness, but we’ll both have to make do._

_i’ve decided we should start the_ **_LHHGBOHFP_ ** _with something i know you’ve always had trouble with._

_making friends._

_now, don’t make that face, hip-hop. i know you don’t think you need any. the kids in wedgehurst never gave you much reason to think otherwise, and sonia’s always been around to keep you company. i’m grateful to her for it, and i hope you two can stay close, but it’s nice to branch out a bit, sweetie._

_kinda hypocritical of me to say that. i’ve never been good at making friends, either. not even when i was your age. got called annoying and loud a lot. funny that you’re the complete opposite and have the same problem._

_maybe it’s a curse. i’ve always thought postwick was cursed. it’s probably better that you’re not there anymore._

_unless you are._

_i don’t think you are, though._ ~~_i made sure of that_ ~~

_but back to making friends._

_be yourself? be kind? don’t judge anyone and everyone will love you? nobody will ever criticize or belittle you, so give the entirety of your soul over to them?_ ~~_what a laugh_ ~~

_honestly, i can’t tell you any of those things with confidence. sometimes being yourself gets you laughed at. sometimes being kind leads to being taken advantage of. sometimes not having good judgement gets you involved with the worse kinds of people._

_sometimes, giving your everything leaves you hollow._

_i’ve learned those lessons the hard way. i’ll tell you about it some day. eventually. not now. i want today’s letter to be encouraging._

_learning who to place your trust in is difficult. you’re not always going to have good judgement. people change. people reveal themselves. people are bad. people are cruel. people lie and hurt and stomp all over everything you treasure._

_but if you don’t take those risks, you won’t ever learn. you won’t ever grow. you won’t ever find who you’ve been searching for, and whoever has been searching for you in turn._

_there are millions of bad eggs, but there are millions of good ones to balance out the scales._

_people who are generous, people who are considerate, people who are good and tell the truth and want to see you better yourself. people who will help you, even when you’ve given them absolutely no reason to._

_people who treasure everything you do._

_keep any eye out, darling. don’t trust everyone at their word, but be willing to give those who merit it the benefit of the doubt. it’s hard to tell the difference, but once you figure it out, you’ll be fine._

_and once you catch those shining stars in this messy universe of ours, they’ll be there to give you a helping hand._

_i know everything i’ve just written may put you off the idea entirely, but don’t be scared. i’m sure there are kids who worry just as much as you do. whether they’ll be liked, whether they’re going to be made fun of, whether they should lie about who they are because they want to fit in._

_i tried it once. twice. thrice._

_didn’t work out very well._

_be yourself, hop. i know i said i can’t be confident in that, but if it’s you, i know everything will be fine, because you’re a wonderful person. i don’t know how i got lucky enough to bring you into this world, but i’ll always be grateful for it._

_i’m sure the world is too._

_i never used to think anyone was special._

_until you_ ~~_two_ ~~ _were born._

_with hugs kisses and all the head pats you’ll let me give you without whining about it,_

_mummy_

* * *

The more cynical part of Hop was ready to wave the first letter off as a fluke.

The one he’s holding in his hands is a testament to the fact that _no_ , it couldn’t have been a fluke, because Corvisquire apparently don’t just deliver letters on the daily (he looked it up. it hadn’t been practiced since the mid to late reconstruction period).And by his mother’s wording, it seems more were to come, hopefully not all equally as somber.

Hop can only assume she was in a less jovial mood when she wrote this one. It lacks any of the self-aggrandizing characteristics of her usual speech and mannerisms.

Maybe it had been one of _those_ days. The ones Hop disliked thinking about because it brought to mind just how powerless he was to do anything.

Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry. Hoping they’d ease her troubles, her worries, her pain. None of it mattered in the end. And especially not on _those_ _days,_ where she would lie in bed, her skin pallid, eyes dull, unable to speak _a word—_

Hop hated those days. Hated how nothing he did would change the inevitable.

He runs a finger over the scratchy writing, trying to imagine how his mother felt writing these words. Some horribly cynical and others terribly hopeful.

It’s true she was never particularly close to anyone. She always maintained an amicable yet distant attitude in front of Postwick’s denizens, never encroaching, never straying too close or allowing anyone to do the same. The only person he could consider a friend to her is Professor Magnolia. The two could chat for _hours_ on a good day.

About what, Hop isn’t sure. He was usually sent out to play or spend time with Sonia while they spoke. Eavesdropping _had_ crossed his mind a few times. Something about his mother’s expression always deterred him from going through with it. Maybe she needed someone to talk to about all those secrets she couldn’t share with him. Someone who could understand and relate to her in ways he couldn’t.

Maybe the professor was one of her stars.

Tucking the letter back into its envelope, Hop sets it atop the first one.

He would have to find a better place to store them. He didn’t want to imagine a Pokémon mistaking them for a chew toy or worse, the _champion_ accidentally stumbling upon them.

The thought of sharing them with his legal guardian _had_ crossed his mind, but Hop quickly dismissed the idea.

The letters are _his_. They aren’t anyone else’s business, least of all the _champion's_.

“Hop…?” The call of his name pulls him away from his thoughts. Three successive knocks on his door follow. “Are you awake?”

On the other side, the champion’s face greets him. For once, he isn’t completely disheveled, his beard neatly trimmed, hair brushed, a crisp white button up and trousers ironed to perfection.

It’s _weird_ , especially after seeing him trudge around the place in joggers and sweatshirts the entire time they’ve been together. Whatever the occasion is, it’s managed to bring out a version of himself approaching respectable. Appearance wise, at least.

“Good morning.” The champion says, his voice even and quiet. “Looks like you’re ready.”

“Did you need something?” Hop applies the same level tone to his own words.

“Just wanted to check on you. Today’s pretty big, isn’t it?”

“It’s just school.” Hop snatches his sack from the floor and steps out of the room, closing the door behind him softly. “Not a big deal.”

“Sonia told me she’s been teaching you.”

“Yes.”

“School’s a little different from that.” He says with a grimace. “From what I remember, at least.”

“It’s fine.” Hop sidesteps him, heading towards the kitchen. Something light on his stomach sounded good right about now. He doesn’t think he can handle anything else. “I’ll be fine.”

The champion follows closely behind, stopping at the doorway to watch him scrounge the refrigerator.It had taken Hop a lot of determination and willpower to be comfortable with poking around some else’s pantry, Raihan’s blessing or not. Considering he did a bulk of the cooking now, the guilt has assuaged itself to a degree.

“Do you need advice? Or reassurance or…anything?”

Hop snorts.

“Are those the kinda things you ask permission to give?”

“If you don’t know whether they’ll be welcome, yes.”

“You don’t need to.” Hop waves him off, deciding a slice of toast and a bit of berry jam would be sufficient. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“You should. Brothers do that for each other.”

“Brothers?” Hop scoffs, popping two slices of bread into the toaster. “Is that what we are?”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Hop ignores the wretched heaviness settling itself at the pit of his stomach. He knows what he’s said and doesn’t intend on taking it back. They _aren’t_ brothers. They haven’t been for a while. Blood is as good as worthless between them and Hop isn’t about to play pretend and act as though the single fact that they are related fixes anything.

He’s done just fine without a brother before. He doesn’t need one now.

“…is that what you really think?”

“I said it, didn’t I?” Hop retorts, glancing over his shoulder.

Gone is the stupidly fake smile plastered on magazines, billboards and endless television programs Hop’s purposely and actively avoided since he could remember. Absent is the pathetically weak and uncomfortably pinched facade of pleasantness he’s maintained since the moment they boarded the train together.

Hop finds…nothing. The champion’s face is devoid of any emotion, blank.

He looks hollow.

 _serves him right_ , Hop thinks venomously, turning back to open the jam jar. _probably can’t believe there’s one less person willing to grovel at his feet_.

However, thinking that is the end of their chat is a mistake.

Where Hop believes what he’s said is enough to deter whatever discussion the champion feels like having with him, he is _wrong_ , because he keeps talking, much to his annoyance.

“I don’t think the same.”

“Okay.”

The champion ignores his dismissive response.

“I think we’re all we have.” He says gravely. “So we should make an effort. I know you have… _issues_ with me, but don’t you think getting along is in both our best interest?“

“ _Issues_? Is that what you’re calling it?” Hop slams the jar against the counter. “They aren’t _issues_ , Champion Leon. It isn’t that I don’t like you. I don’t _care_ for you. I don’t care _about_ you. I don’t want anything to do with you. And you can pretend all you like that you don’t feel the same and act nice and as if I matter to you, but I _know_ I don’t.”

“And how would you _know_ that?” The champion demands in return. “Hop, you don’t know _anything_ about me. When was the last time we had an _actual_ conversation with each other? Not one where you’re trying to get away from me as soon as possible.”

“ _Exactly_.” Hop whirls around, fists clenched, teeth barred. “When _was_ the last time, Mr. Champion, sir? Because I _don’t_ remember, and I don’t _want_ to remember, because I don’t _need you_!”

“So that’s it? You don’t even want to try?”

“ _What is there to try?_ ” Hop screams, exasperated and frustrated and _angry_. This isn’t an argument he wants to be having. This isn’t where he wants to be at all. He wishes he were back in Postwick. He wishes he weren’t anywhere at all.“We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if she wasn’t _dead_!”

“Stop saying it like that!”

“Why? Because it’s true?”

“O _f course it’s not!_ ” The champion roars back. “She _contacted me_. I don’t know how she got my information, but she did and got in touch. It wasn't some child service agency that got me down there. _She_ did.”

Hop stares at him for a moment.

“You’re such a _liar_.”

“I’m _not_. I didn’t even know—“ He cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter. She contacted me and that’s why I went back, and if you think the reason I agreed to take custody of you is because of my _image_ of all things, then you clearly don’t know me at all.”

“And if you think I’ll believe a word you say, you clearly don’t know _me!_ ”

“I guess that means we should fix that, then!”

“Maybe we should!” Hop screams without thinking, chest heaving.

He blinks, realizing his misstep a split second later.

Across from him, Leon wears a triumphant grin.

“We should, shouldn’t we?” He says pleasantly, eyes glittering in the most obnoxious and infuriating of ways. Gone is his frustration, as if it was never there at all. “Great idea, Hop!”

“Wh—Wait, I—Y-You tricked me!” Hop accuses, indignantly puffing out his cheeks. “You made me say that on purpose!”

“I haven’t done a thing.” The champion holds his hands up placatingly. “We had an argument and reached a reasonable conclusion. Very mature on your part. I’m impressed.”

“Shut up!” Hop snarls. “Don’t patronize me! I _hate_ you! You’re the worst!”

“Might be.” The champion’s smile turns chagrined. “But I’m _tired_ , Hop. I don’t want to tiptoe around you anymore. Hate me all you like, I’m ready to put the effort into fixing this.”

“Fixing this?” Hop sneers. How oblivious _was_ this man? “Since when was this something you could _fix?_ I don't care who you are or how many people lick your boots and beg for you to give them the time of day to help fix their lives.I _hate_ you.”

“You have the right.”

“Then why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because _I_ don’t hate _you_. ”

“I wish you did.” Hop hisses. “Maybe then you’d get rid of me and I’d never have to see your stupid face ever again.”

“But I _don’t_.” The champion smiles, as if he’s _won_ , and it’s so _infuriating_ Hop wants to tear it off his face. “I could never and that’s why I’ll start trying.”

“Is that why you’re wearing slacks?” Hop jabs petulantly, because he can’t think of anything else to say to the guy he hates _this much._ It’s like talking to a brick wall. “Is that what trying means? You look dumb in them.”

“Really?” He glances down at them thoughtfully. “Raihan likes them.”

“Raihan’s _nice_.”

“You think?” The man himself pokes his head into the kitchen, as if he’d been listening in on their argument the entire time. He definitely was, Hop decides. The expression on his face is much too innocent to not be guilty. “Thanks, kiddo. I appreciate that.”

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“Kinda hard not to.” Raihan has the decency to look apologetic. “You were yelling. It scared Dee.”

Hop frowns as Goodra stumbles in, teary-eyed and furious. She casts a menacing glare in Leon’s direction before padding over to Hop. Her stubby digits prod his cheeks, her soft crooning likely meant to be comforting.

“Sorry.” Hop mumbles, taking care not to get her slime on his uniform. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She nuzzles him.

“I won’t raise my voice anymore.” Hop tells her, although he’s not sure how well he’ll be able to keep that promise on account of how incorrigible and _annoying_ the guy standing across from him is. “I don’t like yelling either.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid.” Raihan says, petting Dee’s horns. “She just likes motherin’ is all. You're her new baby.”

“M’not a baby.” Hop grumbles, prying himself away from her with an apologetic pat on her cheek. “I need to get going.”

“You’ve still got time.”

“I want to be early.” Hop scrambles to slather his toast with jam and munch it down just as quick. Dusting the crumbs off his fingers, he slings his bag across his back and makes his way out of the kitchen.

“Don’t talk to strangers!” The champion calls out after him. “It’s straight to school and straight back home!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

“Hop, _wait!_ ”

He stops, suppressing a groan. Just how much did this guy like hearing himself talk?

“What do you _want_?” He demands, fingertips resting on the doorknob.

“I meant what I said.” The champion reiterates, expression unwavering. “I’m going to try. Not to change your mind, not to make you _not_ hate me, but to do right by you. For once.”

“…I meant what I said, too.” Hop glares over his shoulder. “Those slacks look _terrible_ on you.”

The resonating door slam ends their conversation.

* * *

“How are we on time, rotom?”

“Bzzt—! Plenty of time! And before you ask again, more than enough time! And in case you keep asking—even _more_ time than that! And if—“

“Yeah, yeah.” Hop rolls his eyes. Getting stuck with a Rotom who talked back and never stopped complaining was the _worst_. He couldn’t ask a simple question without getting a mountain of sass thrown back in his direction. “I get it. Steady on.”

“S’what I was doing, brat—bzzt!”

Hop sighs, turning his attention to the cobblestone roads ahead of him instead.

It might have been a good idea to map out the route to school beforehand, maybe even get a better idea of the city’s layout. The problem was, Hop hadn’t been in the mood for going out since he arrived. It was enough of a shift in routine and environment to get accustomed to staying in the stadium. Trying to explore a city hundreds of times the size of Postwick sounded daunting.

Maybe it was like his mum said, that thing about wanting to hide away and being good at it.

He _mustn’t_ , wasn’t it?

Easy for her to say, but true enough for him to understand. Ignoring Hammerlocke wouldn’t do him any good if he was going to live here for the foreseeable future.

So Hop doesn’t.

He looks.

He takes his time absorbing his surroundings as Rotom directs him through a mess of streets that wind and intersect. He observes the store fronts, advertisements for parfaits and events littering brick walls and billboards, faces of people he doesn’t recognize showing off perfumes, sports drinks and the like, ignoring the only one that makes him want to chuck a stone through the LED screens and permanently erase his image. Even Raihan features in the occasional one, confusing Hop to no end. How could a guy who’s constantly taking goofy pictures of himself, coddling his Pokémon, and secretly offering Hop milk and cookies before bedtime look so serious in an ad for footwear?

Hop watches the people, men and women dressed in suits, chattering away on their phones. School children walking past or in his same direction, Pokémon of all kinds flying through the air, ambling up buildings, or trotting alongside their trainers.Hammerlocke is bustling with life from every corner. Hop wonders if there will ever be enough time to explore every inch of it, ingrain every nook and cranny into his mind.

Probably not. He couldn’t even manage that with Postwick, where there was nothing to do _besides_ explore golden wheat fields and dense, heavily forested woodland.

Not that he was _allowed_ to do that last thing, but what his mum never knew wouldn’t hurt her. 

“Cut through the park here. It’ll save you four minutes, six seconds!” Rotom chimes, zipping ahead of him. “Pick up the pace, child of man—bzzt!”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop downloading those weird language add-ons?”

Rotom only laughs, babbling nonsense about crimson darkness and eternal voids of enmity.

Hop strides through the park gates, dashing through an oddly placed botanical garden, vibrant with flowers and berry trees despite their presence smack in the middle of medieval architecture.It reminds him of the greenhouse at Professor Magnolia’s lab, colorful and lively.

It’s when he’s passing by a grove of trees thick with ripe berries, demanding Rotom slow down and stop calling him odd and pretentious names, that he nearly rams into someone crouching along the pathway.

Hop yelps, stumbling and losing his footing as he avoids crashing into them. He overcompensates his steps before finally tumbling to the ground in a heap, skidding on his hands and knees.

“...Ow.”

“Bzzt! Nice wipeout.”

“Thank you for the commentary.” Hop sighs, taking in the state of his hands.

A little roughed up, but not too bad. He sits back, rolling up his trousers. His knees fare much the same, although the fabric is torn and dirtied to his exasperation. A new pair and he already ruined them. On his first day, too.

His musings are interrupted by the sound of shoes scratching against pavement.

Hop looks over his shoulder, surprised when he finds a girl standing behind him, expression passive save for the way she’s biting her lips and tugging at the hem of her sweater.

Hop glances to the spot where he presumes he tripped and finds it empty.

It clicks.

“Sorry.” He says, smiling sheepishly. “I tripped over you, didn’t I? Are you hurt?”

The girl shakes her head, gazing at her feet. She looks to be around his age, her uniform matching his own. Another student, maybe?

Hop tugs his bag off, unzipping it to pull out the first aid kit he packed. It never hurt to be prepared, a fact proving itself correct already. With practiced efficiency, he unflinchingly cleans his cuts and sterilizes them, sealing them with the Yamper bandages Sonia gifted him before he left. A precaution, she insisted. Her way of worrying over him, as if she didn't do enough of that already.

The girl shifts on her feet, pointing to his hands and knees, eyes anxiously darting from them to Hop’s face and back.

“Don’t worry.” Hop reassures her, packing the first-aid kit away once he's done. “It’s nothing serious. Isn’t the first time I’ve banged myself up.” Because that’s what kids from the rural countryside did. Explore and get hurt and learn to patch themselves up before their mums could fret and drive themselves spare with worry. “I’m fine, see?” He jumps to his feet, slinging his pack across his back again. “All good.”

She nods and turns, fixating her gaze on one of the few strangely bare berry trees.

“Is something up there?” He asks, curious, wondering if that’s why she was crouched in the first place. “Should we call someone?”

She shakes her head, pointing towards a branch rattling around suspiciously.Hop steps below the tree, craning his head to get a better look.

There, munching rather nonchalantly on a leppa berry, is a…

“Rotom. Dex, please?”

“Bzzt—in exchange for extra charging? Because I don’t do that for free—“

“ _Rotom_.”

“Morpeko.” They state disinterestedly. “The two-sided Pokémon. Can switch forms depending on how hungry they are. Happy now—bzzt?”

“Thank you _._ ” Hop turns to the girl. “Are they yours?”

She nods.

“Stuck?”

Another nod.

“Hm.” Hop tilts his head. “Too busy eating to realize you need to be somewhere, huh?”

The girl huffs, directing a glare at her Pokémon, who would much rather stuff their face with another berry than pay her any mind.

“Mind if I try?” He gestures towards the tree. “Can’t guarantee anything, but I can give it a shot.”

She tilts her head, observing him for a moment, and nods.

“Here I go, then.” Hop backs up, judging the distance between him and the closest branch. He runs forward and, with one precise jump, latches onto it, hefting himself upward. The tree shakes and creaks, catching Morpeko’s attention. Their head snaps in his direction, cheeks mid-chew.

“Don’t worry, little guy. Or, um, gal.” Hop glances downward. “…gal?”

The girl nods.

“Gal.” Hop repeats, shifting to another for more leverage. “There’re tons of berries on the ground to eat. That’s your fault though, isn’t it, causing a ruckus up here.”

Morpeko blinks innocently, offering a berry out to him.

Hop waves her off.

“Thank you, but I’m fine.” He reaches his arms out. “C’mon now. Your friend’s waiting for you. You don’t want to be left behind, do you?”

Morpeko gasps, finally seeming to remember where she is and where she’s supposed to be. Without much trouble, she jumps into Hop’s arms, squeaking at her companion. He makes sure his grip on her is secure and, after another moment of calculation, leaps out of the tree, landing lightly on this feet, not unlike a Purrloin.

“Here you go.” Hop holds Morpeko out. “Safe and sound.”

The girl takes her, offering the Pokémon one stern look before hugging her close. Morpeko snuggles into her grip comfortably, as if she’s accustomed to being toted around.

Not expecting a verbal response, Hop is surprised when the girl clears her throat and finally speaks.

“Th-Thanks.” She says quietly. “Koko doesn’t usually act out, but I reckon she was too distracted by those berries to realize what she was doin’. Sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s all right.” Hop reassures her. “Wasn’t much trouble at all.”

“You used to pullin’ stunts like that? Jumpin’ in trees and coaxin’ pokes out of ‘em?”

“Something like that.” Hop laughs. “Got lots of practice in back hom—er—well…I’m pretty used to it, is what I’m saying.”

“That’s ace.” She says, scratching Morpeko—or rather Koko’s—head. “Not a lot of trees to hop into where I’m from. I was sitting here tryin’ to figure out how to convince her into jumpin’ when you showed up and fell on your face. Rushin’ to get somewhere, too?”

“Rushing to—“ Hop gasps. “Rotom! Time?”

“You’re so _bossy_ , you know that—“

“ _Rotom_!”

“Half past opening. You’ll be lucky if you get a warning—bzzt.”

“So much for being early.” Hop sighs. Not the best way to start the school year, but not much else to be done for it. “Better late than never, I guess.”

“You headin’ to Hammerlocke Prep?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.” The girl points to the insignia on her sweater. “Was a little lost actually.”

“Did you forget your Rotom?”

“Don’t have one.” She says simply.

Hop nods. They _were_ pretty pricey. The only reason he had one was because Sonia insisted on gifting him it.

Come to think of it, he would probably need to talk to her about that. Was she still paying his service fees?

“Show us the quickest way to school, Rotom.” Hop requests, rolling up his sleeves and trousers again. If they were in for a run, he would be ready. “We’ve got no time to spare!”

“The magic word, flesh bag?”

“ _Please_.”

“Bzzt—!” Rotom cackles maniacally. “Follow my lead!”

* * *

Her name’s Marnie.

Hop finds that out after they both get scolded by their teacher for, quote, ‘ _lallygagging around like a pair of headless zigzagoon_ ’ before class, an image that both disturbs and disgusts him. Koko the Morpeko is nearly forced out of the classroom, as Pokémon are apparently not allowed on the premises. A note Marnie produces makes quick work of that dilemma, however, and they are both paired and sent to the back of the room, where the only desk left available awaits them.

“She makes it easier to talk.” Marnie explains after they’re seated, ignoring the looks shot in their direction by nosy classmates. Morpeko growls at them. They turn away quick enough. “I’m not good at talkin’ without ‘er.”

“That’s okay.” Hop says. “I think you make a good team.”

Marnie stares at him.

Then, cracks a smile.

“Thanks. Hop, right?”

“That’s me.”

“Hoppin’ Hop who hops into trees without a second thought. You’re an odd fella.” She grins cheekily. “I’m Marnie. Good to meet ya.”

“Good to meet you, too.”

They shake hands, Koko joining in as well.

Maybe this whole making friends thing wouldn't be so hard.


	6. another sunny day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the ice is broken but hop is far from receptive.

_to my springtime rain and autumn evening breeze,_

_hello darling!_

_i’d like to start off with an apology. my last letter tuned out more dour than i intended. i wasn’t feeling my best and wrote whatever i was feeling at the time._

_i considered rewriting it, maybe lightening the contents, but in the end, i didn’t. it would be disingenuous to hide my feelings from you now, when the entire point of writing these is to be open and honest. i don’t want to hide anything from you anymore, not my feelings, not my thoughts, and certainly not who i am._

_i want you to know exactly who your mummy was, from beginning to end. the good and the bad. the pretty and the ugly._

_although, let’s be honest, your mummy is a true beauty, incomparable to even the finest of jewels._

_i jest._

_actually, no i don’t. where do you think you got those adorable looks from?_

~~_certainly not your deadbeat father_ ~~

_so i promise to keep being honest. and for that to be possible, you need to understand something, hop._

_your mummy, she’s not especially good at doing that. i know you’ve always had many questions for me. i know that i brushed them off because i simply didn’t have answers for you._

_or maybe i was afraid of the answers i did have, and how you would react to them._

_~~i’ve always been a coward~~._

_but things are different now, in ways i would rather they not be and in ways that i’m almost grateful for._

_there’s nothing like shedding your burdens at the edge of the world._

_don’t fret over that, though. not yet. i’ll get to it in due time. i have a lot to answer for and you have a lot to decide for yourself. whatever conclusions you make, i will respect and gladly stand by them. for better or for worse._

_now, for the reason the both of us are here._

_the_ **_LHHGBOHFP_ ** _!_

_i take it you’ve thought about my advice. perhaps acted upon it. or maybe it wasn’t useful or necessary at all. i wish you could tell me in person. i hope spiritual reception in the astral plane is decent. maybe i’ll be able to hear a tidbit or two of what you have to say._

_please keep what i wrote in mind, darling. friends are valuable allies. treasure the ones who stand by you and return the favor tenfold._

_next on the agenda—because that’s what it is, hip-hop. i have a list and everything! it’s such a shame i can’t show you and rub it in your face! mummy’s organization skills are second to none—i’d like to discuss an important issue._

_your feelings._

_what on earth is mummy talking about, you may be wondering._

_well, it’s rather simple._

_you, love, have inherited the very worst from me._

_i don’t mean that to come across as insulting or demeaning._

_it’s a fact, the blame that of which falls entirely on myself._

_you’ve become such a brave boy, hop. i’m sure you think that means bottling everything up and never inconveniencing others. never saying a word about how you’re feeling, how anything is affecting you, because it’s not! it couldn’t be! you’re completely fine!_

_it’s okay not to be fine, hop. it’s okay to say as much. it’s okay to talk about your worries and concerns, be they big or small._

_it’s okay._

_part of being brave is being able to admit when you aren’t fine. when something’s nagging at you. whether it’s something someone’s said, something you’ve done or that’s been done to you, even an issue as minor as a paper cut! it’s okay to talk about these things._

_i’m sure it won’t come easy to you, but that’s fine! we need to work up to these things!_

_start small, love. harness your inheritance! your mother is a world-class complainer, after all, a fact you have been privy to time and again._

_with good reason of course. the mortal world was not quite ready to accept my very reasonable and not at all entitled demands for perfection._

_perhaps expecting a throne and royal red carpet where i went was a bit much, but the rest of my requests were completely respectable! i am expecting the universe to reimburse me in kind by bequeathing upon you said luxuries. a better hero-prince, galar cannot find anywhere else!_

_quite the title, isn’t it? it suits you well!_

_now, make sure you keep my lessons in mind. speak up. burden others with your cares every once in a while, sweet hero-prince._

_the peasants should consider it an honor!_

_with hugs kisses and an imaginary crown placed upon your head,_

_mummy_

* * *

_Hero-prince._

Hop rubs his pink, practically steaming cheeks. His mum sure was good at coming up with the most embarrassing pet names. Admittedly, he kinda liked the way it sounded, even if he didn’t consider it a fitting title.

As for the rest of the contents, he isn’t quite sure how to take them. Clearly, his mother thought he had issues expressing himself. Not entirely untrue, but a gross exaggeration.

It was never really an issue of refusing to burden others with how he felt. It was more so whatever he felt wasn’t anywhere near as important as what others did. How could he sit there whining about what the stupid kids in Wedgehurst were saying about him when his mother was dealing with a far more menacing plight? Ignoring a bunch of brats was child’s play in comparison.

Besides, it was pathetic to cry about minute problems. It wouldn’t have done his mother or Sonia any good, when they had far greater matters to attend to.

So Hop didn’t.

And he was fine.

Wasn’t he?

He didn’t feel especially bad about it or anything. Sure, there had been plenty of moments where all he wanted to do was crawl into his mum’s arms to be held and coddled and told everything would be fine, unrealistic as it was, but that was selfish, wasn’t it?

How could he bring himself to do that _now_ of all times, when he couldn’t find it in himself to do it when she was still around?

Had she noticed? Had she felt guilty about it? Somehow, _that_ makes Hop feel terrible. The last thing he ever wanted was to make his mum feel guilty over something completely out of her control. It wasn’t her fault she’d gotten sick. It wasn’t her fault they’d had to make a few tough decisions.

And it certainly wasn’t her fault Hop decided licking his wounds in secret was a far better alternative to bringing them to her attention.

“What a mess.” He murmurs, sighing. He would have to think on her intent a little more. Did she want him to go around sharing his sob story with everyone? Or was she speaking in general? To be more open? Hop didn’t think himself especially closed off, but then, there was only so much of himself he could observe from his own perspective.

Maybe he should ask Sonia about it. Whenever he can bring himself to actually call her, that is.

“Whatcha reading?”

Hop startles with a squeak, reflexively crumpling the letter in his hand. He jerks his head to the side, clicking his tongue when he finds none other than the champion standing at the center of his room, hand on one hip.

“I was calling your name.” He gives as explanation, pointing to the ajar door. “You didn’t answer.”

“So you barge in without permission?”

“I was worried.”

“More like _nosy_.”

“Whatcha reading?” The champion ignores his words, pointing the contents in his hand. “School stuff?”

“None of your business.” Hop quickly shoves the letter back into its envelope and stuffs it below his pillow with the others. Not a great hiding place, but it would have to do. “Get out of my room.”

“We’re making breakfast.”

“I know.”

“Come out?”

“Why would that give me any reason to go out there?”

“Hop.“

“I’m asking you to leave. What about that don’t you understand?”

“You need to eat.”

“I’m not eating anything you’ve touched.”

“Raihan’s getting most of it done.”

“Is that supposed to change my mind?”

“Maybe.” Raihan appears at the door, a toothy smile on his face. “Come on, give me a chance. I’ve been reading up. The eggs probably won’t kill you.”

“That’d be a mercy at this point.” Hop grumbles, stomping past the champion and following after Raihan.

What he arrives to isn’t as bad as he’s expecting. Raihan’s efforts have not been in vain, as far as appearances are concerned. The eggs aren’t gross and runny nor off-putting and rubbery. Nothing spectacular, but hopefully palatable.

“Why can’t I just do it?”

“Kids shouldn’t be cooking.” The champion declares, a stubborn set to his jaw. “They should leave it, and the rest of the housework, to the _adults_.”

“You can’t even fold laundry right.” Hop argues. “Isn’t that inefficient when I can do it better?”

“Damn.” Raihan nearly chokes on a laugh. “He’s got ya there, Lee. You’re pretty shit—uh-- _bad_ — at it.”

“Language.” The champion chides sternly.

“It’s not like I haven’t heard it before.” Hop mutters under his breath. Arguably, he’d heard worse. People in Wedgehurst were notorious for their sailor talk, for whatever reason.

“That doesn’t matter. Smart boys like you shouldn’t be using foul language.” The champion tells him, his smile sickeningly saccharine. It reminds Hop of the countless pieces of merchandise and collectibles sold just about _everywhere_ , stamped with that same stupid face. “And I think you’re really smart.”

“Gross.” Hop grimaces, revolted. “Can you not say stuff like that? It’s so fake.”

“Fake?” The champion blinks, as if he’s genuinely taken aback by the word, the utter _fraud_. “I’m being honest.”

“Yeah, _okay_.” Hop rolls his eyes. “Raihan, these eggs taste like plastic.”

“Edible, though?”

“Mostly.”

“Nice.” The gym leader looks strangely proud about that, which Hop can’t help but find amusing. “We’re making progress.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

The clink of plates and glasses are the only sounds that are audible for a short time. Not that Hop expects the peaceful quiet to extend itself for the duration of their obligatory morning gathering. With the grandest and most boisterous of champions around, how could that be a possibility?

“I think we should talk about our plans for today.” The pinnacle of all human achievement and success eventually says, fingers tapping idly against the table. “I've read that it's a healthy form of communication.”

“Great idea, Lee!” Raihan exclaims, patting him on the back with an excessive amount of enthusiasm, almost as if this were a planned conversation. Hop is under no impression it _isn’t_. “Let’s go around the table and share. Hop, you first.”

“Why? You already know where I’m going.”

“C’mon, humor us.”

Hop sighs. With the way both men were looking at him, one with ridiculous sparkles in his eyes, the other barely containing the amused grin threatening to break out across his face, he doubts there would be any getting out of such a stupid idea.

“I’m going to school.” Hop drawls, a hint of sarcastic bite to his words. “And after school, I’m going straight home, because that is what the oh so great and powerful champion has continuously requested of me. Who am I to go against his word?”

“It’s for your safety.” The oaf immediately follows up with. “And I’m still not comfortable with you walking by yourself.“

“You’re acting as if you _don’t_ send Arthur and Flo after me every time.” Hop deadpans, rolling his eyes at the guilty way both his caretakers fiddle with their forks. “At least send Galahad. He can be discreet, unlike the _bright_ orange and _neon_ green flying _dragons_.”

“Crazy coincidence.” Raihan laughs nervously. Honestly, Hop expects _better_ from him. “They _are_ popular Pokémon.”

“I thought there was only one Charizard in Galar.”

“There should be.” The champion frowns. “Not that there aren’t illegal rinks, but for the most part, you’re not going to see any other Charizards flying around…” He blinks. “N-Not that the one you think you saw is Arthur. Because it _wasn’t_.”

Hop stares.

“…What’ll you be doing, Raihan?” He asks, deceptively pleasant. Anything to not think about the idiocy of the previous statement. “Share.”

The rest of the conversation boils down to Raihan regaling Hop with his training regiment for the day and the stack of paperwork awaiting him in his office. When Hop questions what kind of paperwork is even required of gym leaders, all he receives in return is bitter laughter and no specifics.

Hop assumes its a load of bureaucratic hogwash.

When they get to the champion, it is verily unfortunate, because he talks up a storm about heading out for a flight upon Arthur’s back. Apparently, it’s what he’s been doing every morning since he arrived, solving the mystery of his odd absences when Hop cared enough to question them.

“Flying is the best.” He repeats for the _millionth_ time. “There’s no better feeling. You should come along some time.”

“No, thank you.” Hop swiftly refuses. “Feet are for keeping on the ground.”

“That sounds like something a kid who’s constantly finding ways to _not_ be on the ground would have drilled into his head.” Raihan comments, raising an eyebrow.

Hop hums.

“Maybe.”

Once he’s finished eating, Hop readies all of his things and heads for the door, where he is once against accosted with the champion’s unnecessary enthusiasm.

“Call me if anything comes up.” He flashes a brand new RotomPhone in Hop’s face. A recent model, one he’s seen Raihan advertise once or twice, coincidentally. “I’m hip with the times again.”

“You’re not fifty.” Hop shoves his shoes on. “And I’ll call _Raihan_ if I need anything.”

“That’s…that’s just as well.” The champion forces a smile. “Have a nice day.”

His words are met with the typical door slamming becoming characteristic of their exchanges.

* * *

Having a friend is strange.

Not in a bad way. Just…different.

For one, the walk to and from school isn’t lonesome.

He finds Marnie waiting for him each and every morning and afternoon following their initial meeting. It makes him feel bad for doubting her intentions, as he’s not used to having anyone approach him for the express purpose of being his friend.

She doesn’t berate him on approach, doesn’t mock him or harass him. Doesn’t needle him about his blood relations or how he compares to them.

She just…waits for him. And greets him. And chats about whatever is on her mind and never makes fun of anything he has to say in return.

It’s nice. Having a friend is nice.

…Are they friends?

“I think so.” Marnie clears up for him during lunch when he asks. “Not sure. I’ve never had any mates.”

“But you’re so cool?” Hop passes a slice of his sandwich over, which she hastily vacuums up. Marnie doesn’t usually bring much. A carton of milk and sliced fruit is the most he’s seen, so Hop’s taken to sharing without explicitly stating he is. He doesn’t know her well enough to understand which boundaries he’s allowed to cross, so he tiptoes the best he can.

“Ta.” Marnie grins. She likes receiving compliments, Hop’s noticed. “Hasn’t helped much. M’not all that good at talkin’, even with Koko.”

“You speak to me just fine.”

“Yer different. You’ve gotta…I don’t know, aura? Somethin’ about you makes it easy to be around.”

“Thank you?” Hop tilts his head, not sure how to take that information. “I think?”

“Welcome. Plus, you’ve got that brogue a yers.” She teases. “M’not so nervous about my speakin’ s’long as I can hear yours.”

Hop slaps a hand over his mouth, cheeks flushing.

“Is it obvious?”

“Kinda. Don’t get why ya gotta hide it.”

“I thought…” Hop pauses, thinking about how best to answer. “I don’t know what I thought. It’d be easier, maybe? Away from home, I mean.”

“Hammerlocke’s gots lots of people.” Marnie says. “From all over Galar. It’s not strange to ‘em. It’s the sort from Wyndon ya gotta worry about. My brother says they’re as uppity as can be.”

“Definitely.” Hop grumbles around his water bottle. That’s an understatement. “Are you not from Hammerlocke?”

“Nope. Spikemuthian to the bone.”

“Spikemuth…” Hop tries to think of anything he knows about the city. He doesn’t come up with much. “What’s it like there?”

“It’s great.” Marnie leaves it at that. There’s something peculiar about the clipped way she says it, almost defensive, but Hop doesn’t press. “Not everyone think so, though.” She continues. “My brother says we’re a forgotten city. Folks don’t pay us any mind, ‘cause we don’t got any big money coming in.”

“I’m sorry.” Hop responds, for lack of anything else to say. If he had known Spikemuth fared much the same as Postwick and even Wedgehurst, maybe he would have been a bit more grateful.

“It’s okay. Not your fault.” Marnie shrugs. “I don’t listen to any of it. I love Spikemuth and that’s all that matters.”

“That’s nice.” He says. “Loving your home that much, I mean.”

“Don’t you?”

Hop takes a bite of the sliced pecha berries he packed for himself.

Somehow, they don’t taste very sweet.

“Not really.”

Marnie changes the subject after that, perhaps sensing his discomfort. Hop’s grateful for it, and wonders if that’s what it means to be friends. Knowing when to pursue and drop certain subjects while never holding either action against each other.

He doesn’t know.

He _wants_ to know.

He doesn’t stop thinking about it after lunch, during class or even when he and Marnie part ways after school. He watches her walk off, the bounce of her pigtails the last he catches before her silhouette disappears into the the rush of pedestrians ever present on Hammerlocke’s streets.

And even then, he stays, thinking, until his shoulder is jostled and a very concerned officer asks if he’s all right and offers to walk him home.

Embarrassed, Hop gives his thanks, reassures them he can certainly make it back on his own, and heads back to the stadium, thoughts a mess.

He doesn’t know what it means to be a friend. He doesn’t know what it is he’s supposed to be doing. His mum said it’d be difficult but to make an effort.

She never mentioned what to do afterwards, though. How do you maintain friends? How do you keep them happy? Know what to talk about and what to keep to yourself? Should he be more expressive? More cheerful? Or less? Keep his emotions at a minimum? Marnie is pretty unexpressive, but is that what _she_ wants from _him_?

It’s frustrating, not knowing what to do. Not knowing how not to be hated.

His mood gets bleaker and bleaker, until he’s dragging his feet across the increasingly familiar drawbridge, listlessly requesting Rotom plug in the correct access key to the elevator, rising up and up and up.

“I’m back.” He mumbles, more out of habit than anything, locking the door to their living quarters. He silently slips off his shoes, about to do the same with his bag when his eyes catch on vibrant silver.

“You don’t have to do this every time I get back, Lulu.” Hop says with a sigh. The Duraludon stares back passively, holding his arms out. “I can do it myself.”

Lulu doesn’t budge an inch.

Hop does.

“If you really don’t mind…” He offers his bag. “Thank you.”

Lulu takes it, bumping their foreheads together affectionately before ambling off to his room. Hop doesn’t know what’s possessed the Pokémon to be so insistent on it, but he can’t deny the swell of warmth that develops within his chest at the action.

It’s something his mum used to do for him, when he’d return from his trips to the river bank, or the fields or the lab or Sonia’s house, sack filled with rocks, flowers, or any other interesting treasures he could find.

When she was well enough to be up and about, that is.

“Hop?” He hears his name called. It’s Raihan’s voice. “Y’there?”

“Yes.”

“Mind stopping by the living room? There’s a delivery here for you.”

Hop’s heart nearly stops.

It couldn’t be, could it? Another letter? They didn’t open it, did they? They wouldn’t have, would they?

Heart pounding, Hop quickly strides down the hall, praying to any and all deities for Raihan to have the decency he expects from him.

Except…it’s not a letter.

Hop stops dead in his tracks, because there, sitting across from Raihan and the champion, on the plushy faux leather recliner is—

“Scones!”

Sonia grins, setting the mug of tea in her hands on the coffee table.

“The one and only.”

Hop rushes forward just as she rises to her feet, meeting him halfway. Laughing, he jumps into her arms, Sonia tugging him close and accosting him with a barrage of kisses to the forehead and hair.

“Scones!” He repeats, unable to contain the joyous giggles bubbling out of him. “You’re here!”

“Surprise!” Sonia laughs, squeezing him tight. “I couldn’t go another day without seeing my lovely assistant. I was beginning to worry you know. What happened to calling me?”

Hop blanches.

“I didn’t—It’s just—“ He stumbles on a response, because he doesn’t have a proper one. The intent to call had taken hold of him plenty of times. Following through was the issue, for whatever excuses he could use to justify his hesitation. “I-I’m sorry, Scones. I meant to and I wanted to and I _would_ have but—“

“Relax, hopscotch.” Sonia pinches his cheek to get him to focus on her. Her expression is gentle and understanding, familiar and warm and everything Hop’s come to find comfort in. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I know you have your reasons. Just wanted to drop in and see how you are. Make sure the big bad dragon master isn’t trying to feed you to his babies or anything.”

“Can you not slander my character in front of the impressionable child?” Raihan demands, a faux severity to his tone. “We all know I only feed the bad ones to— _Ow_! Ow, ow, _ow_! Flo, _stop_!”

Flygon glares and does the exact opposite, slapping him upside the head with his graceful wings a few more times for good measure before returning to his perch upon the lap of the very unimpressed champion of the region. Raihan groans, rubbing his head gingerly.

Sonia tuts, resting her cheek atop Hop’s head.

“How about we feed _him_ to them?”

Raihan squawks indignantly at that, but Sonia ignores him in favor of dragging Hop over to sit beside her, where she proceeds to involve him in a conversation about what she’s been up to since he’s left.

It’s almost too easy to fall back into step with Sonia. She’s always been a pleasure to talk to, carried a warmth about her Hop seldom found in anyone besides his mother. Her soothing voice and manner of speaking never failed to disarm and relax him, coaxing out his worries before he’d even realized they were spilling out his lips.

It isn’t any different now. Hop smiles and laughs and pouts along with Sonia’s tale of woe and sorrow, her complaints about her nag of a gran their usual brand of funny and tragic.

The only odd thing about it is the way Raihan chimes in every now and again, but it’s not unpleasant or anything. In fact, there’s something nice about watching Sonia talk to him so casually, as if they’ve been friends for years.

Have they been?

“How do you know each other?” He asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“The Champion Cup.” Sonia answers, casting Raihan a strange look. “He kept following Leon around like a lost Yamper and demanding rematches. I just happened to be there sometimes.”

Jolting at the sound of his name, the champion looks up from where he’s been contemplating Flo’s antennae.

“I did not!” Raihan’s cheeks get blotchy for the first time since Hop’s met him. “We were all going the same way!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sonia waves him off, disinterested in his defensive replies. “Despite what the pretty boy demeanor suggests, he’s actually really smart. We started talking books and research and here we are.”

“Two kelpsy berries in a pod.” Raihan forms a heart with his hands. “Would have married her too but, alas, her heart belongs to—“

“ _None of that._ ” Sonia’s sharp reply stuns Raihan into silence and nips Hop’s follow up question in the bud. “…You’re such a jokester, Rai.” She finishes off awkwardly.

Raihan laughs tightly, sharing a pointed look with her.

“Sure am.”

“Um…you were talking about the lab?” Hop says, confused, hoping to steer them away from…whatever that was.

“Huh…? Oh. Oh!—oh my— _Arceus,_ Hop, is she a _pain_. If I have to get one more earful from her, I’m going to tear my hair out.” She whines, dragging him into her arms, burying her face in his shoulder. “It’s even worse now that I don’t have my my hip-hop recharge time to make me feel better anymore!”

“Just ask Bolt.”

“You’re funny.” She deadpans. “How about I send him out and have him chew up your shoes some more?”

“Please don’t.”

“Thought so.” Sonia nuzzles his cheek. Hop snickers, returning the gesture.

“You two are close.” The champion finally decides to join the conversation, although Hop was perfectly content to pretend he wasn’t even there. “That’s…nice.”

Sonia pulls away from him abruptly.

“Of course we are, Leon.” She says, the faintest hint of bite to her tone. “We’ve spent a lot of time together.”

“I _know_ that.” He bites back, frown deepening. “Anything else you’d like to shove in my face?”

“And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about. You _always_ do this. You did it _then_ and you’re doing it _again_.”

“Well I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your delicate sensibilities, Leon.” Sonia sneers. “Want me to beg for forgiveness? Call your agent and schedule an appointment for my repentance? Arceus, you’re such a _child_.”

“ _You’re_ the one who made such a big deal out of _this_.“

“ _Rightfully so_! You know, I haven’t seen a _single_ fleck of acknowledgment your way.” She laughs, but there is not a trace of amusement behind it. “Am I supposed to be reassured, Leon? Is _this_ what you promised? Because all I’m seeing is another reason to take him _back_.”

“You _can’t_.” Leon jumps to his feet, fists clenched, eyes ablaze. Flygon cries out and tumbles onto Raihan, who steadies him. “You _can’t_ , Sonia.”

“Then show me _why_.”

They glower at each other, neither giving an inch.

Ultimately, it is Leon who steps down.

“I’m going to get some air.” He mutters and walks off. The glass doors rattle with the force of being slammed shut.

“…Might’ve run a bit too hot there, Sones.” Raihan says after a moment of tense silence. “He’s trying his best.”

“Leon doesn’t need you to defend him, Raihan.” Sonia scowls. “He needs to get his act together.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Hop isn’t the only one who’s lost a parent.” Raihan says, his usually calm countenance darkening. “Cut him some slack.”

“Because that isn’t what I’ve been doing? He said things were going well. I told him I was coming and he said everything was just fine and dandy. This—“ She gestures between both siblings. “—isn’t fine or dandy. It’s _sad_.”

“It's barely been--”

“That _doesn't matter_ , Raihan. What the _fuck_ was all that big talk about before?”

“He’s _trying._ ”

“Not hard enough.”

“ _Sonia_.” Raihan sits up straight. “I know you’re worried, for _both_ of them, but you need to give things time. You can’t erase or fix or whatever the hell you wanna call— _this_ —that quickly.”

“I _know_ that.” She sighs, running a hand over her face. “I _know_ , Rai. I’m just—this whole thing’s fucked.”

“I know, but we gotta make do with what we have.” His expression softens. “We’re all in this together, yeah? Let’s not kill each other trying to decide who knows best because, let’s be honest here, none of us know shit.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” She laughs quietly, jostling Hop’s arm. “…Hopscotch?”

“What?” He glances at her. “Am I part of this conversation again or are you going to keep pretending I’m not here?”

“Sorry.” Sonia winces. “Didn’t mean to start speaking on your behalf there.”

“For what it’s worth, we’re all trying.” Raihan adds sheepishly. “We may not know what we’re doing, but at least you’ve got three semi-functional adults on your side?”

“Thanks?”

“No problem, kiddo.”

Hop sighs. The entire ordeal surrounding his mother’s passing has him raising his hackles more than necessary. It isn’t their fault he’s a child with little to no decision making power, much as it annoys him. Sonia is only looking out for him and whatever Leon’s reasoning for such a visceral response isn’t any of his concern.

“This sucks.” He says, after a moment, picking at the specks of lint on his trousers.

“That it does.” Raihan directs a sympathetic look in his direction, before rising to his feet, Flo at his side. “Think I’m gonna go check on him.”

“He’s always been such a sulker.” Sonia tuts, saluting him. “Go work your magic, dragon man.”

“Leave it to the master.” Raihan winks and leaves, Flygon following closely behind.

“…Sorry, sweetie.” Sonia apologizes again once they’re alone. “Didn’t mean to make a fuss on the one day I decide to show up. Your brother has a way with getting on my nerves.”

“I can relate.”

“Heh, maybe.” She twirls a lock of her hair around her finger. “Let’s forget that for now. How about you tell me about your day at school instead? Charizard man says you’re going to H Prep?”

“There’s not much to say. I’m learning, I guess. It’s not the same as you, but I’ll make do.”

“Professor Sonia is very grateful for your praise, young assistant.” She puffs out her chest proudly, earning a laugh from Hop. “The Galarian school curriculum is no match for my superior intellect.”

“All hail the wise and learned, Scones.” Hop pauses, a sudden thought hitting him.

_Speak up. Burden others with your cares every once in a while._

“Hey Sonia?”

“Yes?”

“What does…” Hop hesitates, not sure whether to continue his line of thought or not. “What do friends do?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you keep them? What do you need to do to make sure they don’t…stop being your friend?”

“Have you made any new friends recently?”

“I think. I asked and she said she thought so, but I’m not sure.” Hop frowns. “I don’t want to ruin it. She’s nice and really cool. Not like _them_.”

Sonia mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _fuckin’ brats._

“There’s no one way to make or keep friends, Hop.” She takes his hand. “Be a good person, treat them well, and be yourself. You can’t be friends with everyone, but if this girl’s as cool and kind as you think she is, and you both enjoy each other’s company, that’s all you need. The rest comes naturally.”

“But how do I _know_?”

“You’ll figure it out. Don’t sweat it. Go with the flow and let the rest work itself out. Not everyone is a good for nothing imp.”

“I guess…”

“Is there a reason you’re so worried about it?”

“I’m not worried. I’m…I just want things to be _different_. It’s not like I can go to your house or the lab whenever I feel like it. I want…I don’t know. Never mind. I’m being stupid.”

“Hey, none of that.” Sonia sets a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not stupid, you’re a kid. Kids worry about this kinda stuff. I say make the most of what comes your way. Take everything a day at a time and forget about all that nasty business from before. You’re in a new city, aren’t you? Start fresh! This is a good chance to, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” Hop snorts. “Until they realize I share the same last name and coincidentally look like our lord and savior.”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy.” Sonia’s shrugs. “…Sucks doesn’t it? Being stuck in the shadows.”

“How do you deal with it? When people just see the professor?”

“I don’t.” Sonia laughs humorlessly. “I hide out at home and get nagged at for not putting in any effort. Doesn’t matter what I do, it’s never enough. Not for her. Not for anyone.”

“I see it.” Hop quickly jumps to her defense. “You’re the smartest, nicest person I know! Who cares what anyone else thinks? One day, you’re gonna make a huge discovery, something that’ll shake Galar to the core, and everyone’ll come crawling to you for an autograph and begging for forgiveness! I know it!”

Sonia looks at him, eyes wide with surprise at his outburst.

Then, she flicks his forehead.

“ _Ow_!”

“Right back atcha silly.” She grins. “Take your own advice, hip-hop. You’re gonna be big one day too, and it won’t be because our lord and savior knows how to win a battle. It’ll be all _you._ And I’ll be right there for the ride, laughing at all the dopes who couldn’t see that.”

“I guess we shouldn’t be moping then!”

“No way!”

Hop lifts his fist. Sonia meets him halfway, bumping his with fervor.

He feels lighter after it. Talking to Sonia’s always made him feel better. Maybe he should listen to his mum’s advice more often. He wishes he could tell her, if only to see that smug expression on her face again.

Eventually, the champion and Raihan return, the former visibly less riled up, although Sonia leaves shortly after that.

Not before giving him a hardy slap on the back and demanding that the next time she visit, he be in better shape than he is right now. It prompts him into hugging her, which she returns just as fiercely, calling him all sorts of names while he returns the favor.

Hop is left more confused than ever over the strange dynamic of their relationship. He glances at Raihan for an explanation of any kind, but he shrugs and mouths ‘childhood friends’ and leaves it at that. Hop figures that’s as good an answer as he’s going to get.

“Take care, Hopscotch.” Sonia hugs him within an inch of his life. “I’ll try to stop by as often as I can, keep all you boys in check. Make sure you call this time, all right? It’s no bother at all, so don’t think in circles until you’ve convinced yourself it’s a bad idea.”

“Yes, Scones.”

“Be good, keep up the good work in school, and remember our talk.”

“I will, Scones.”

Sonia gives him a final peck on the forehead, ruffling his hair, and heads off.

Hopefully next time, Hop would have a lot more to share with her.

Maybe a few more feelings, specifically.


	7. rust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mentions of past bullying and a very mild panic attack

_to my ocean waves and verdant forest brush,_

_How is today treating you?_

_I hope all is well and that the sun is shining wherever you are._

_As for me, I had a lovely brunch with you in the garden today! A rare luxury, but I was feeling better than usual. You were so happy about it, you could hardly sit still! I don’t think I got a word in edgewise with all your chatter about everything you’ve been helping out with at the lab._

_Not that it’s anything you should apologize for. It made me happy. I love that lively, talkative side of yours. I wish I could hear it more often._

_Hm, talking to both your past and future self seems rather paradoxical, doesn’t it? I admit, I’m still struggling to write in a cohesive and sensical manner. You understand, don’t you?_

_Ugh, it’s so confusing. Mummy knows you enjoy those futuristic time-traveler stories, but she doesn’t even want to imagine the work involved in putting one together. The logistics must be a nightmare. I’m getting a headache just thinking about it!_

_Anyhow, for today’s_ **_LHHGBOHFP_ ** _lesson (mummy would have made an excellent school teacher don’t you think), I wanted to discuss skills you’re actually very well acquainted with._

_Empathy and consideration._

_I know you might be rolling your eyes and thinking such basic human decency isn’t worth going all that into detail with, but I think it’s important you understand what they mean, especially now when you’re likely to forget in the wake of your own grief._

_Bitterness and sorrow often blind us to the plight of others, and that isn’t anything I want to happen to you. I know you might be sad and angry and question why our misfortune couldn’t have been casted off upon someone else, but there’s something you need to understand Hop._

_Sometimes, bad things happen to good people, but we should not allow that to embitter us and turn our good faith into malignant cynicism._

_Opening your heart to others, hearing their stories, understanding their points of view and considering their feelings regardless of your own, there is no greater power than that._

_Now, that is not to say we will disregard our feelings in favor of those of others. There is a balance to be struck._

_It isn’t an easy lesson to learn. Sometimes, we do not want to hear what others have to say. Sometimes, we refuse to accept that we can be wrong or misinformed or biased against what we hate because we hate it. It’s a lesson I still haven’t come to terms with and it is one I hope you have an easier time grasping than I ever did, because once you do, you’ll understand how powerful a tool it can be._

_It isn’t only useful for being kind to those you love. It’s also important for gaging the intentions of others. I can’t quite explain it, but understanding why people do the things they do can often clarify a few things about their character._

_Am I being cryptic? Know that I am laughing as I read this over, because I cannot believe how pretentious this is coming across. Mummy knows you hate that, so she apologizes if it comes across that way._

_Simply said, I hope you continue to grow into the empathic and considerate young man I know you’ll always be. I hope you always try to view things from all possible angles and perspectives, to understand that we don’t always have all the answers, and that putting in the effort to find them, to understand and consider why those answers are what they are is as important as seeking them out._

_The truth is never one-sided, dear._

_with hugs kisses and a million thumbs up_

_mummy_

* * *

“Empathy and consideration, huh?”

The cool morning breeze brushes Hop’s cheeks. Above him, the fortress’s customary flags whip around violently. Far beyond the terrace and the centuries old city walls, the sun rises from the horizon, peeking over mountaintops and shining brilliantly, accenting the bluish-pink hues of the sky.

Hop doesn’t know what drove him to get up even earlier than usual to see the sunrise, but the moment his eyes had snapped open to meet the darkness of his room, his feet were already touching the cool hardwood floors, his body dragging itself outside to greet the dawn of a new day.

Sometimes, when his mother was still alive, he would often pray for morning to never come. The idea of waking to find himself alone terrified him. Of walking into her room to _find—_

Hop dreaded each rise of the sun. Approached his mother’s room with caution every single time, hoping, _praying_ , he’d find her heart still beating.

While those worries and fears no longer plague him, the false hope of getting up to find it was all a dream, that none of his sorrow was grounded in reality, that he’d stumble upon her up and about and _calling his name_ —

Something prods his cheeks.

Hop blinks back the wetness of his eyes.

Galahad phases into existence, flat expression conveying worry.

“It’s nothing.” Hop says, hiding the letter away into his pullover pocket. The familiar corvisquire had appeared not too long after he made himself comfortable upon a fenced in turret. He still couldn’t find a proper explanation for its uncanny ability to know when he would be up and where to find him. “Just…thinking, I guess.”

Galahad ponders him, blinking slowly.

Then, he disappears. Hop imagines he’s got better things to do with his morning.

“Up bright and early aren’t ya?” Raihan’s voice carries over from the sliding doors. Hop spots the rest of the pack groggily making their way onto the terrace for their typical morning routines. Flo and Arthur immediately take flight, stretching their wings gleefully as they soar through the sky. Dee and Mordred begin their usual bout of bickering over who gets the comfiest patio seat while Lulu opts for a sunbathing session.

Raihan ambles over to him, already dressed in his iconic hoodie and headband.

“How long have you been out here?”

“A while.” Hop responds, resting his hands on his folded legs. “I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

“What about you?”

“Had a few errands to run.” Raihan explains with a shrug. “We were running low on supplies. Figured I may as well head out to the depot and see if I could snag some deals. They’re best when the sun’s not out…” He trails off with a yawn, pointy teeth glinting, reflecting the sun’s light. Hop’s still theorizing whether there’s actually a dragon below all that skin and bone, and Raihan’s merely hiding it under his eponymous title. “Picked you up a few things while I was out. What’s your take on candy?”

“ _Yes_.” Hop answers a little too quickly, much to his embarrassment. “I-I mean, I like it.”

Raihan laughs good-naturedly at his enthusiasm.

“Cool. I got a little bit of everything.” He glances over his shoulder for a brief moment, lowering his voice. "Don’t tell Lee, though. He’s been pretty adamant about limiting sweets for all of us. Think he’s going through a health nut phase.”

“Why would I tell him anything?” Hop mumbles, picking at the loose threads of his pajama bottoms.

“I’m sure he’d like it if you did.”

“ _I_ wouldn’t.”

A lull of silence falls between them in which Raihan observes him.

“You know, I’m kinda jealous of you both.”

“What’s there to be jealous of?”

“Dunno.” Raihan shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I don’t have any siblings. Always wanted one. It was always just me and my grandad.”

“What about your…” Hop trails off, wincing at his own insensitivity. Thankfully, Raihan takes no offense.

“Neither of them were interested in me.” Is his detached answer. “My ma left me with my pa, and he passed me on to _his_ pa and split. Wasn’t up for taking over this place, apparently.” He gestures to the stadium. “The old man taught me everything he knew and left it to me instead.”

“I’m sorry.” Hop looks at his hands. “I didn’t know.”

“I don’t exactly go around telling everyone.” He pauses. “It’s why I’m jealous, I guess. I only ever had my grandad and now that he’s gone, you could say I’m sticking it out solo. You and Leon, you’ve got each other, for better or for worse. That has to count for something.”

Hop wants to retort that _it doesn’t count for anything_ , but his better sense prevents him from making such a callous remark towards Raihan. He doesn’t believe there’s anything to be envied about the non-existent relationship between two people who hardly know each other, but it’s not in Hop’s place to pass judgement like that. He _does_ have the champion, his own issues with him notwithstanding. Begrudgingly, Hop admits he _could_ be worse off.

He could be alone, in all senses of the word.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again, guilt tugging at his conscious.

Raihan smiles kindly, bumping Hop’s shoulder with his fist.

“Don’t be. I’m just…I don’t know. I’d like to see the both of you get along.”

“That’s asking for a lot.”

“Not really. Lee’s pretty easy to get along with.”

Hop bristles.

“You sure like defending him, don’t you.”

“I don’t defend anyone who doesn’t warrant it. Leon’s a lot of things, Hop, but he’s not the monster you seem to think he is.”

Hop resolutely keeps his mouth shut.

Raihan frowns.

“Why is it so difficult for you to believe he means well?”

“Because he _doesn’t_.” Hop scowls. “He’s _pretending_ he cares. As soon as he gets _bored…_ well, at least that’ll be good for you. I won’t be taking up space here anymore.”

“You think he’ll lose interest and get rid of you one day?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not true.”

“How would you know? You can’t read his mind.”

“No, but neither can you.” Raihan says. “I know him well enough to be sure he isn’t planning on _getting rid_ — _Arceus_ —do you realize how messed up that sounds? You’re not an item. You’re his _family_.”

“Only because I have to be.” Hop grumbles, tucking his knees against his chest. “He probably just thinks of me as a pain.”

“He would never think that.” When he receives no response, Raihan sighs. “Look, I’m not asking you to push your feelings aside for his sake. You have a right to them and Leon _should_ take responsibility for whatever he’s done to hurt you. All I want is…for you to give him a chance. He wants to be your brother more than _anything_. Give him the opportunity.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Because Leon’s my friend.” Raihan says without a shred of hesitation. “You are too.”

“By association?”

“By _good character_. And, I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but there’s something really satisfying about the great and powerful champion being shut down by a ten year old who wears wooloo jammies and slippers.”

“M-My mum bought them for me!” Hop flushes pink. They’re soft and warm and _cozy and serve their purpose!_ “Of course I’m going to wear them!”

“Whoa there. Wasn’t knockin’ them or anything. I think they’re cute.”

“Stop making fun of me!”

“Hop, my pants are either Goomy, Trapinch, or Duraludon print. I think you’re fine.”

Before Hop can utter another rebuttal in his defense, three pairs of eerie, yellow eyes materializemere centimeters away from his face. He yelps, losing his balance upon the turret.

Thankfully, he is spared a tragic fate on the stone floors by Raihan’s quick reaction time, catching him before he can split his cranium open.

“Hey Dreeps and Gala! Cool it with the apparition, ‘kay?” He scolds, setting Hop onto his feet. “Almost knocked the little guy unconscious! Who the heck’s gonna let you nest in their shoes and bed if not him?”

Galahad and his Dreepy, Gwen and Gwin respectively, look so throughly repentant for their actions, Hop nearly expects tears to spring from their eyes.

“It’s okay.” He reassures them, allowing the Dreepy to burrow themselves into his hair, Galahad leaning into the chin rub Hop offers as consolation. Maybe this had been their way of making him feel better. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Galahad lets out a soft, content cry, before disappearing once again. In his place, Arthur and Flo return, the former immediately replacing Galahad, lowering his head towards Hop expectantly. The rest of the group follows, Dee in particular murmuring a few impatient pleas for attention.

“You all sure like being spoiled, huh?” Hop laughs as Arthur impatiently puffs out a ring of smoke. He raises his hands to caress his snout. "Say, Raihan?”

“Yeah?”

“The stadium…it’s really yours?”

“Yes sir.”

"It's a, um, an inheritance?"

"Yes?"

“Then...does that mean that great Lady Charlotte is…?

“My great great great grandnan?” Raihan grins. “Sure is.”

“So the spears…?”

“Locked away in the vault. Wanna go—“

“ _Yes_.”

* * *

It doesn’t take long for word to spread in school.

Not all that surprising. While taking pictures of the champion and posting them on mediums of any kind has apparently been deemed illegal by the corporate overlords up in Wyndon, the gossip of the average, every day Galarian is an unstoppable force not to be reckoned with. Hammerlocke is completely abuzz with the elusive sightings of the champion behind their stone walls, in spite of all the measures to steer public attention elsewhere.

Hop heard vague whispers his first few days at Hammerlocke Prep. Slowly but surely, they morphed into offhand suggestions, then full on discussion and finally, dots being connected, realizations being made. Children eyeing him strangely, sizing him up, wondering if the eerie gold of his eyes and violet hues of his hair and the same accursed surname were a product of an improbable coincidence or rabid fanaticism.

His every move is broken down into bits and pieces, the way he talks deconstructed, how he handles himself, what questions he does and doesn’t ask during class, the way he eats his lunch. _Everything_.

His only solace is Marnie, who’s either completely oblivious to the chatter surrounding him or simply doesn’t care for it.

Hop tries to keep to the edges the best he can, tries to slink into obscurity, however impossible a task it is. It’s not exactly conducive to establishing a good rapport among his peers like his mother likely hoped he would, but neither is being related to the man who’s literally worshipped by an entire region of battle obsessed maniacs.

Based on past experience, it’s only a matter of time before someone asks.

Fortunately, it’s the one time Marnie isn’t around, having gone off to the restroom with Koko, leaving him alone at their desktop.

Hop is placing the finishing touches on his notes, considering which highlighter would best help him memorize the different layers of the atmosphere with a frown when his eyes catch on pastel patchwork.

Sophie, a girl with neat blonde ringlets and a fashion sense bordering on violating dress code with the amount of colors and frills sewn onto her uniform, is walking in his direction. She’s from a wealthy family, exceptionally generous when it came to school donations, the only reason she was never outright chastised for not adhering to the policy supposedly.

“Heya Hop!” She chirps, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger nervously. It reminds him of Sonia for an instance. “Boy, that lesson sure was tough, wasn’t it? All that talk about layers and carbon and, um, other sciency stuff always makes me hungry! How about you?”

“I…guess?” Hop responds, albeit confused. Sophie’s never approached him before, but it’s not as if she’s ever been hostile either. He has a feeling she’s somewhat intimidated by Marnie, which might be why she tends to avoid looking in their general direction besides sneaking in the occasional glance their way. “Like cake layers?”

“Exactly!” She nods fervently. “My mummy always packs a slice for me, which is why I’m always excited for lunch time. Those are the only kinds of layers I like.”

“That’s nice.” He responds awkwardly. “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

“Definitely!”

The conversation lulls.

Sophie rocks on her heels, biting her lip. Hop waits expectantly. He knows he isn’t being spoken to for the sake of it.

“Did you—“

“Are you the champion’s brother?” She blurts out.

A chorus of gasps follow her exclamation. Hop shifts to look around her, where a group of their classmates are conspicuously huddled a few desks over, obviously listening in on their conversation. It looks like Sophie either volunteered or was nominated to ask him what they’d been dying to know since the rumors started.

“S-Some of us thought you were maybe his kid!” She continues, unable to stop herself. “But Champion Leon’s too _young_ to have a baby and he’s never said he had a wife or a girlfriend so we thought maybe his brother? You look just like him and your names are the same so we just wanna know if it’s true!”

“Stop lumping us in together!” One of the boys cries, folding his arms against his chest. “I don’t give two figs about it!”

“Oh, hush Dennis!” Sophie demands, blowing a raspberry at him. “No one’s asked you!” She turns her attention back to Hop. “So, is it true?”

Hop hesitates over his answer.

Lying would be the easiest way to get them off his case, but what would that accomplish? The truth would come out and he would be labeled a liar, a title he isn’t keen on being labeled. Honesty is surely the best policy. He only hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite him, as it did constantly in Wedgehurst.

“Yes.” He responds plainly. “He’s—I’m his brother.”

No sooner than he’s said it is his desk immediately surrounded, his classmates talking over each other in an attempt to be the first to ask him whatever they’ve been wondering.

_“What’s he doing in Hammerlocke—“_

_“What’s he really like—“_

_“Is it true he took down two hundred Hydreigons with his bare hands—“_

_“How long does it take to brush his hair—“_

_“Why is his favorite curry apple curry—“_

_“Can I get his super rare league card—“_

_“Does he have a girlfriend—”_

_“How heavy is his cape—“_

_“Why’s he been hiding for so long—“_

Hop is hit with question after question, each one more invasive than the next. The fact that he cannot answer the majority of them speaks a lot about the nature of their relationship, but that’s not what really strikes him as discomforting about the situation.

That anyone would think it their right to probe into someone’s personal life, inquire as to their daily routine and habits as if they are _entitled_ to that information. As if the champion were an item to be consumed in his entirety, his life to be put on display for all to stick their grubby little hands onto. It churns Hop’s stomach, makes him clench his fists, because he couldn’t imagine anyone asking after _him_ like this. Asking so many questions for the sake of having that knowledge rather than genuinely coming to care for and cherish that information.

Hop knows he shouldn’t be annoyed. His classmates are only asking after their revered hero, eager to learn more about him. He simply happens to be a vehicle for supplying that knowledge, however unfortunate it is for him.

But perhaps, it’s equally as unfortunate for the champion himself.

Hop wonders if this is how everyone he comes into contact with is treated. As if they’re only as useful as the information they can give about whether he snores at night or what shampoo brand he uses or what his latest sighting at a café must mean about his ability to battle.

Back in Postwick and Wedgehurst, he was harassed over their shared blood. If Hop was treated poorly for the simple act of being related to him, he doesn’t want to imagine the actual act of _being_ Champion. Having all your faults dug into and analyzed and coerced out of those closest to you.

He wonders.

_“Does he have, like, a bajillion pokédollars—“_

_“What kinds of foods does he eat—“_

_“Is it true he’s actually really mean in person—“_

_“Are his eyelashes fake—“_

_“Do his Pokémon actually hate him—“_

_“Does he—“_

“Excuse me.” Hop finally cuts them off, posture and face the pinnacle of composure. “I said I’m his brother, but don’t you think it’s a little rude to ask questions like that?”

“But—“ Sophie’s rebuttal is cut off by a sharp look from him.

“But _nothing_. Trying to get me to tell you anything about him is really inappropriate. Don’t you think asking me whether or not his undies have Charmanders on them is an invasion of his privacy? Would _you_ like someone asking _your_ family whether there are Charmanders on _your_ undies?”

There are a few grumbled nos and sheepish finger twiddling.

“No, you _wouldn’t_.” Hop says pointedly. “Because it’s nobody’s business. If anybody’s gonna answer those questions, it’s Champion Leon and Champion Leon alone. And if he doesn’t wanna, he doesn’t have to.”

“Guess I didn’t think of it like that…” Sophie says, a conflicted expression on her face. “I just think he’s the coolest, but I don’t want him to feel bad about it!”

“Me neither.” Another boy adds. “Who wouldn’t feel weird gettin’ asked somethin’ like that?”

“Who even cares.” Dennis complains. “The champ’s super lame anyway!”

“Shut up, Dennis!” Sophie stomps her feet. “No one asked you! Just ‘cause you like Raihan a whole lot doesn’t mean the champion isn’t cool!”

“Yeah! He’s never even won _once_ against him!”

“It’s only a matter of time!” Dennis defends, before the entire conversation devolves into the children defending their favorite gym leaders and explaining why they’re in the running to take Champion Leon’s title the next cup.

“The champ’s your brother?”

Hop jumps, glancing to his side as Marnie retakes her seat.

“Um, yeah. H-He is.”

Marnie nods, but otherwise doesn’t say anything, facing the front of the class. Hop wants to broach the subject, explain why he kept it to himself because it suddenly strikes him as something he should have told her _before_ he admitted it to their entire class, but their instructor breezes into the classroom seconds later, and there is little opportunity to try and justify his actions afterwards.

* * *

The walk home is quieter than usual.

For all that her expression remains flat the majority of the time, Hop’s found Marnie is quite the chatterbox when she wants to be. Afternoons after school are rather lively because of it, one of the best parts of his day, really. He likes hearing her talk.

This time she’s quiet, adding to Hop’s feelings of anxiety. Marnie hasn’t spoken a word to him since she overheard his conversation with their classmates. Hop’s at a loss of how to deal with it, because he isn’t sure if she’s upset or angry or just plain doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Hop’s hands grow clammy, his heart begins to race.

Typical that things wouldn’t be any different here then they were _there_. _Of course_ being who he was would always be an issue. Marnie would probably grow to hate him too, and say horribly cruel things about about how he’s a pansy and a mummy’s boy and how he was abandoned for a reason because _why would Champion Leon ever think twice about him_ —

“—op?”

Why did he think he could ever make friends? That anyone would ever like him? He’s a nobody hick and that’s all he would ever be—

“—op.”

She hates him. He’s messed up and she hates him hates him _hates him—_

“Hop!” Marnie’s sudden grip on his hands startles him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Are you all right?” She asks, worry etched all over her face.

“I-I—“ Hop shakes his head, sucking in air in short bursts. Oh no. Not _this_ again. “Think I need to sit d-down.”

Marnie surveys the area and, spotting a vacant alley, drags him into it, sitting him against the brick wall of the building. She falls in beside him, resting his hands against her chest and softly requests he keep in time with her own breathing.

Hop does his best to ground his thoughts, to keep in time with Marnie’s count. He’s done this before. He’s overcome it before. He’s fine. He’s fine, he’s fine, he’s _fine_.

He counts along with Marnie in his head, until his pulse slows to a normal rate and his vision is no longer blurred along the edges.

“Better?” Marnie asks, not letting go of his hands.

“B-Better.” Hop releases a shaky sigh. “S-Sorry.”

“It’s okay. My brother has those sometimes.” She tells him. “I’m used to helping him.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She props herself next to him, releasing one hand but not the other.

They sit in silence for who knows how long. Hop tries to gather his thoughts, to best think of how to explain himself, but keeps coming up blank. He doesn’t know how to do this. Doesn’t know how to not look like an idiot in front of someone else.

If he didn’t seem pathetic before, he certainly did _now_.

“Does it bother you that I know?” Marnie’s the first to speak up, staring straight ahead at the building on the other side of the alley.

“N-No, it’s not—I wasn’t _hiding_ it, I just—“ Hop stares at their interlocked fingers. “I didn’t want _anyone_ to know, but everyone _always_ finds out. I didn’t—I don’t—I’m _sorry_.”

“Don’t gotta apologize. M’not mad or anything.” Marnie tightens her hold on him. “I was just thinkin’ is all. About why you looked so upset about it.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.” She frowns. “When I got back, you looked spooked. Got all pale and ghost-like. Thought you’d seen a Ghastly or somethin’. Was just…wondering’ _why_ , I guess. S’it ‘cause you think people’ll ask for favors or somethin?”

“No, it’s—“ Hop considers his next words carefully. They’re very personal, and he’s never spoken about them to anyone, not even his mum. Sonia knows to some extent, but not the whole story.

Somehow though, the warmth of Marnie’s hand, the concern in her gaze, the lack of judgement she’s shown so far…

He thinks it might be okay to tell her.

“Back where I’m from…” He starts, fingers trembling. “There were these _boys_ and…they didn’t like me very much but, um, they sure liked the champion a whole lot.” He bites his cheek, willing the words to come out. “They, um, they knew. That w-we were brothers. From their parents or something, I don’t know. I never told them but they knew. A-And they always told me how _weird_ it was b-because—“ He wipes his eyes. “‘c-cause I wasn’t _like_ him at all. Not in any way. And so whenever I came ‘round and they were there they, um—it was always different. Sometimes they’d c-call me rude names or shove me around or th-throw stuff at me. Once they even t-took my bag and tossed it in the river. And so I always hated leaving the h-house ‘cause they’d see me and just—“ Hop shudders, squeezing Marnie’s and tighter. “They _hated_ me. I don’t—I don’t want you to _hate me_.”

Marnie is silent as she takes in his words. Hop forces himself to keep his breathing even, despite how quickly his mind is racing. Whether or not he’s ruined everything, he doesn’t know anymore. What if this only drives her away? What if she realizes those boys _must_ be right about him and leaves him and _hates_ him _—_

“You got their addresses?”

Hop blinks.

“What?”

“Their addresses.” Marnie repeats, deceptively calm. Her _eyes_ though, the storm raging within them is anything but. “You got ‘em? I reckon they’re _aching_ for me to _pummel them into the dirt.”_

“Marnie—“

“They were _wrong_ , Hop.” She says firmly, eyes narrowing. “Hatin’ you ‘cause they like the champion? That’s a _whole_ ‘nother level of stupid and it’s makin’ me want to _smash their faces in._ ” She huffs, flexing the fingers of her free hand. “Everything they did to you was _wrong_. You ain’t your brother, but it’s their fault for not realizin’ _that’s_ what makes you great.”

“I-It does?”

“Yeah.” Her lips flatten into a line. “Y’know, I hate Wyndon folk, but I hate the champ the most. He’s all smiley and peppy, and that’s nice for all the people watchin’ him on the telly, but it’s not as if he ever does anything _useful_ as Champion. He visits sick kids and cuts ribbons and makes pretty faces at the camera, but Spikemuth’s been drowning since forever and he’s never _once_ said a _word_ about it.” She’s practically growling at this point. “My brother, he’s the leader, and he’s done _everything_ to get the league to pay attention to us. Filed all sorts of complaints and requests for aid and gotten _nothing._ And what’s that guy been doing? Prancin’ around in his cape and ignoring everythin’ else going on in Galar. What’s there to praise about a champion who’s never there when it counts?”

 _Not very much_ , Hop thinks bitterly, understanding all too well.

Marnie sighs.

“Sorry. Don’t mean to insult your bro or anything, just gets me heated is all. What I’m sayin’ is, don’t let whatever those prats did to you get ya down. I don’t hate you, and I’d _never_ hate you for somethin’ like that. I’m not too great at this friends thing, but I think I got lucky with you. It isn’t just anyone who climbs up trees to save a ‘mon. A buncha folks passed me by without doin’ a thing, but _you_ didn’t. You stayed and helped and even walked to school with me and didn’t think it’s weird how I can’t really talk all that well without Koko. You told those kids to their faces that inquirin’ into people’s personal business is wrong, even if they’re the champion.”

She raises their clasped hands, intertwining their fingers.

“You’re not the champion, but why would I care about him when _Hop’s_ the chap worth knowin’?” Marnie says with fierce resolution. “How can I hate ya when you’ve done everythin’ to make me feel the opposite?”

“I…” Hop’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “R-Really?”

“Really.” Marnie nods. “So don’t sweat it. ‘sides—“ A wicked grin overtakes her face. “One day, I’m gonna take the gym challenge and knock that crown right off his head and tear that cape to shreds. You won’t halfta worry about a thing, ‘cause Champion Marnie’s gonna make sure anyone who’s been mean to ya pays for it.”

“By smashing their faces in?”

“‘Course.” Koko turns Hangry to emphasize Marnie’s point, waving her pudgy little paws menacingly. “That’s what champions _should_ do. Protect everyone and bring justice and make sure the little guy is taken care of.”

“I-I think you’ll make a great Champion.”

“Thanks.” Marnie bumps their shoulders together. “No more runnin’ your head in circles, ‘kay? If yer worried, let’s talk. S’what friends are for, right?”

Hop blinks away his tears. The weight on his chest lightens, today’s worries melting themselves away, leaving him with extra breathing room.

“Right.”

Marnie smiles, and he smiles, and everything feels just a little easier to handle.

* * *

Hop gets back with little issue.

A little emotionally drained, but safe and in one piece.

For once, Lulu isn’t there to greet him, which is a bit disappointing on account of how accustomed he’s become to seeing the sweetheart of a Duraludon whenever he returns. Hop assumes he must be with Raihan, explaining the dead silence he arrives to.

Divesting himself of his shoes, he heads towards his room, intending on a quick shower before getting his homework done and calling it a day. He passes by the living room, where a familiar blur of purple stops him in his tracks.

The champion is there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyebrows furrowed, arms folded against his chest, lips downturned into a pensive frown. The coffee table has been pushed aside to make room for the clothing strewn across the carpet, different jersey sets with the iconic champion symbol stitched onto their fronts out for display. The stupid cape is thrown across his shoulders, assailing Hop with an odd mixture of nausea and irritation.

He’s ready to leave without announcing himself, but his conversation with Marnie stops him. His recalls her accusations and Raihan’s request.

None of it adds up, now that he thinks about. Marnie hates him but Raihan insists he is deserving of the opposite. He doesn’t want to doubt either, seeing as neither has given him reason to doubt their words, but it doesn’t quite make sense. How can the champion be both monstrous and non-monstrous at the same time?

Hop’s own feelings skewed towards the former more often than not, but it isn’t as if it’s always been that way.

_Empathy and consideration._

Readying himself, Hop takes a deep breath.

“Good afternoon.” He says as politely as he can manage, softly padding into the room.

The champion’s eyes immediately snap up to him.

“Hey there.” His smile is equally as pleased as it is confused. Hop doesn’t blame him. This isn’t exactly routine for them. “How was school?”

“All right.” Hop looks at the jerseys. “What’s this?”

“Work stuff.” The champion sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “I’ve got to head back to Wyndon for work.”

“Aren’t you on vacation?”

“ _Personal leave_.”

“Whatever. Why are they making you go back?”

“Because there’s no rest for the wicked.” The champion rolls his eyes, eyeing his phone with distaste. “It’s important, so I can’t postpone the trip. Apparently, the public’s getting antsy about me not showing my face for this long. It’s meant to reassure them.”

“It’s not like your _mum died_ or anything.” Hop frowns. “Do they not care about that?”

“Overcoming grief earns brownie points.” Is the bitter response he receives. “That’s what my PR team told me earlier.”

Again, the gross, discomforting feelings Hop felt earlier rise to the surface. He knows the position of champion isn’t exactly the most conducive to privacy and ethical and moral guidelines, what will all the commodification and whatnot, but for anyone to outright suggest that someone dealing with their grief is another product to be sold—

It doesn’t sit well with, Hop. Not at all.

“Is it hard?” He asks before he can stop himself. It’s a question he’s had since before they arrived in Hammerlocke, before the train ride and the funeral and the years long absence. “Being champion?”

Leon looks up from glaring at his jerseys, regarding Hop with open shock.

It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop, to hear the faint gust of wind brushing past the windows, for Hop to hear his own blood rushing through his veins, because he’s been wanting to ask this question for a while but maybe not quite like this. He’s always imagined it with more screaming and insults, not gazing down upon the man who _should_ be his brother, looking so worn out and lost and _hollow_ despite the crown that rests upon his head.

They are thoughts Hop has always been happy to deny exist because they only make everything more complicated. It’s easier to hate Champion Leon than it is to consider whether he gets tired or sad or angry or if he’s ever _once_ thought of home while he was off carousing the region to the beat of his own drum.

Hop doesn’t want to consider any of that. He isn’t sure whether he _wants_ to have an answer.

“Sometimes.” The champion finally responds. “I like it, though. Even if it’s not easy.”

Hop digests that, trying not to pay too much attention to the sensation of his heart shriveling up, a familiar toxic bitterness threatening to swallow any of his remaining goodwill towards the man he hates most. He _hates_ that it exists in the first place. Hates that he can never quite manage to get rid of the fanciful shreds of hope he’s long since told himself didn’t exist.

“What do you like about it?” He asks instead of all the nasty words and accusations bubbling and boiling for every second he doesn’t say them.

“ _Battling_.” Is the immediate answer, unsurprisingly. “Being the strongest. Facing the toughest opponents. Meeting people who like it as much as I do.” He pauses, shadows casting themselves across his face. “Meeting people who understand. If that makes sense.

“It doesn’t.” Hop says sharply. The champion winces, but he isn’t finished. “I don’t get it. I _never_ have.”

Hop’s always, _always_ hated it. Hated _everything_ about it, even Pokémon. Why would he want _anything_ to do with them after all they’ve done to his mother? To his family? To _him_?

“Do you want to?” The champion asks, the stupid, hopeful way he looks at Hop revolting in its earnestness. It makes his insides twist, makes him want to scream and _deny, deny, deny._

His answer should be no. It’s too little too late for that.He _shouldn’t_ be interested. He _shouldn’t_.

_Empathy and consideration._

He shouldn’t _want_ to understand or empathize with this person. He shouldn’t _want_ to try and investigate the discrepancy between what the people closest to him say and the reality of what actually _is_. He shouldn’t, _he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t—_

“I don’t know.“ His fists clench, nails digging into his palms. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“Even if I want to?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know.”

They’re going in circles. Hop feels like that’s all they ever do. All _he_ ever does.

“Okay.” The champion says softly. “That’s okay.”

Hop turns on his heel, intending on disappearing for the rest of the day but something holds him back. Something’s _always_ holding him back.

Some urge. Some feeling, some yearning long since scorched and singed and locked away beyond the deepest abysses of his heart, a place he refused to venture into after being disappointed and let down again and again. A place he’s done _everything_ to cord off and never acknowledge.

“…Maybe.” He whispers. “Maybe I do.”

“Okay.” The champion repeats. Hop doesn’t look at him. He _can’t_. “That’s okay, Hop.”

Hop leaves after that, and tries to convince himself he isn’t the weakling he obviously is.


	8. back in business (part i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all that glitters is not gold

_to my sweet summer tea and warm winter cocoa_

_how are you, my heart of hearts?_

_i hope well. for every one of these letters i write, that's what i find myself concerned with the most._

_it’s frustrating, not knowing for certain how you are. the hop with me now is all too adeptat hiding his feelings whenever i ask. i wish he would talk to me. i wish he would tell me whatever's bothering him. i wish he would worry about himself a little more._

_the hop of the future, the you that’s reading this, i wonder if you’re still as sad as you look to me right now._

_for today, i want to stray away from the_ **_LHHGBOHFP_ ** _. the last thing i want is to annoy you with a bunch of preachy nonsense. maybe this will give you the opportunity to put my advice into action. or maybe not. the choice is yours, hop. i know i’m good at coming across as self-important and shoving my ideals onto others, but i want you to decide whether my words are worth listening to or whether they’re better suited to being ignored._

_i hope i’m not confusing you. how can mummy tell you what to do one moment then turn around and tell you not to the next?_

_adults are complicated, darling. fickle and temperamental. if there’s anything you’ll get out of these letters, i’m sure it’s that._

_for now, i’ve decided i want to talk a little about myself. i know you have questions, and i think it’s about time i get to answering a few of those. you have a right to them and maybe, just maybe, you’ll come to understand me a little more than you did before._

_where to start? the beginning, i suppose._

_your mummy was born in postwick, in a humble cottage off the riverside._

_she hated it very much._

_i think i’m possibly getting a little too ahead of myself, though._

_i was born in postwick, but it never felt like home to me. i didn’t get along well with the other children or the adults or even my own family. it never crossed my mind that there was ever any room for me and i think everyone else felt the same. it's a small village after all. there's only so much space to spare._

_i believe i’ve mentioned this before, but as a child, i was loud and brash and angry. i fought with anyone who got in my way, had a filthy mouth, was the bane of the schoolhouse’s existence (because we actually had one of those back in the day that’s how old your mummy is). it drove your grandparents up the wall with frustration._

_not that they didn’t do the same to me._

_i don’t think i need to beat around the bush with this. you are well aware of how strained my relationship was with them. the very few times we had the misfortune of hosting their company, i think you saw for yourself the kind of people they were. harsh and unforgiving, unwilling to bend or break their customs for the sake of accommodating their daughter, or even you._

_they never could accept me for who i was. i don’t think there was ever a time they weren’t disappointed in me. nothing i did was ever up to their standards. none of my dreams were ever viable options or worth supporting. nothing i said warranted their attention. nothing about me was ever what they wanted and nothing i did ever changed that._

_my father once told me he would have rather i had been born a boy. that maybe then he could be proud and not embarrassed over who i was. maybe then i’d make sense._

_i hated them, hop. and i hated postwick and everyone who looked at me with disdain and mocked me for existing. i hated the hills and the fields and the sky and the forest. i hated the wooloo and the dubwool._

_everything._

_i always thought i should have been born somewhere else. somewhere far away, where i could find people like me, people who refused to be chained down by expectations. my mother wanted me to stay home and sew and cook and clean. my father was always itching to marry me off. i don’t even think it was because he expected it of me, but because he wanted to get rid of me as soon as he could._

_i remember wishing with my whole heart that, one day, i could leave and never come back. find adventure and good pals and uncover mysteries and legends without ever having to think about nasty postwick with its nasty people and my nasty parents ever again. i wanted to the see the world, because there had to be something greater than a town in the middle of nowhere with people who hated me just as much as i hated them._

_i wanted something better._

_i wanted to see everything with my very own eyes._

_i wanted to find treasures._

_i wanted to be happy._

_so what did i do?_

_the moment i was of age, i left._ _an d nobody ever bothered looking for me. n_ _ot that i wanted to be found._

_i think i’ll leave it at that for now. the best parts of stories are their cliffhangers, no?_

_oh don’t make that face, sweetheart. i plan on telling you the rest in due time. you just have to be patient for a little longer._

_to clarify, i don’t want you to be sad about anything that i’ve written here. i wish my parents could have been more supportive. i wish you could have had the opportunity to have grandparents who coddled and cared for you with every bit of their hearts. i wish we could have been a proper family._

_but we weren’t, and that’s probably for the best. i kept you away from them for a reason. they were hardly the type of people i wanted you learning anything from._ _i hope i’ve been better to you than they ever were to me. i hope you know just how much fun all these days we’ve spent together have been for me._

_i hope you know just how much your mummy loves you, hop._

_that'll never change._

_with big hugs big kisses and maybe a few misses,_

_mummy_

* * *

The letter is crumpled under the grip of Hop’s hands, his fingers digging into and denting the thick, expensive paper.

He’s always been somewhat aware of his mother’s tumultuous relationship with her parents, having witnessed their terse and hostile interactions on more than one occasion. A singular stand out moment had been one horrible, unexpected dinner together where she’d risen from her seat and demanded they leave the premises. He couldn’t remember what was said, what had been screamed over the terrible Shepard's pie they'd shared, but he _could_ recall his mum slamming the door behind them, gathering Hop into her arms and asking if he wanted any ice cream.

It was a fond memory of his, eating chocolate vanilla swirl on the back porch together while she spun silly stories about the moon and sun and stars, putting aside the wretched reasoning behind it.

Hop takes shaky breath, forcing himself to regain his composure.

His mum had been wrong on one account. Rather than sad, the newfound knowledge has only inspired rage and fury within him. To finally know _why_ he didn’t have a nan like Sonia didn’t leave him feeling any better about it. It’s a shame he couldn’t properly thank his mother for her consideration in rightfully depriving him of ill-intentioned company. If they couldn’t respect their own daughter, he’s certainly didn’t want anything to do with him.

It _does_ make him wonder why they bothered attending their funerals, though, if his mother had no reason to mourn their loss.

Maybe she still held affection for them, even after everything they put her through. Maybe she was simply paying her respects to the people who’d brought her into the world. Hop couldn’t makes heads or tails of the rationale, but maybe it was one of those adult matters he wouldn’t understand until he was an adult himself. Maybe being fickle and temperamental was a requirement for making odd decisions.

A squawk startles Hop out of his brooding.

The mystery Corvisquire stands ready to take flight, flexing _his_ (hop had looked up how to tell the difference) wings.

“Hey, wait a sec.” He says, gathering the Pokémon’s attention.

The Corvisquire gives him an inquiring look, but obliges, albeit with suspicion. Hop grabs a bag of bird seed, a water bottle, and two small dishes resting on his desk, setting them on the window sill. He purchased them at the general store on his way back from school the other day, using the allowance the champion had taken to rewarding him with for his housework and absolutely _not_ for, quote, ‘ _buying his affection_ ’, whatever that was supposed to mean. It’s not an excessive amount, part of Hop initially tempted to label the man a cheapskate before quickly coming to the realization that money didn’t hold much value to him when he didn’t especially want for anything in the first place.

This had seemed like a good way to utilize it. The feisty ‘mon had been doing him a tremendous service since the beginning, delivering his mother’s letters consistently and discreetly. Not offering him a proper place to rest and recuperate was incredibly rude on Hop’s part, driving him to make up for his uncouthness in an appropriate manner.

He pours the seeds into one dish, water into the other, and presents them both to the twitchy Corvisquire.

“Sorry for being a bad host all the other times.” Hop apologizes sheepishly, pushing the dishes towards him. “Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Corvisquire. I’m sure you have better things to do than haul letters from…well, _wherever_ you’re from.”

The Corvisquire glances between him and the dishes, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Not exactly the friendliest ‘mon, but he probably has his reasons for it, as anyone else would.

Finally, after a moment’s hesitation, the Corvisquire flits forward and takes his fill. Hop keeps a respectable distance, making sure not to loom or hover closer than he’s wanted.

“You’re a roughed up little guy, aren’t ya?” He murmurs, finally making the effort to take in the Pokémon’s appearance. His wings show signs of abuse, scars littered between his feathers, the tips slightly clipped. His talons are cracked and rough looking, the feathers on his head matted and lacking sheen. The tuft on his chest is spotty in some areas, revealing dark skin usually hidden beneath plumage. “Guess the world hasn’t been kind to you either, huh?”

The Corvisquire stops eating, intense red eyes peering into his own. One has a gash running through it at an angle, as if he’s been cut with a blade of some sort. Just the thought has Hop’s stomach churning unpleasantly.

It's something he’s witnessed first hand, a few times, at the lab. Professor Magnolia often took it upon herself to foster unwanteds, beaten and left for deads. He watched her rehabilitate the creatures on multiple occasions during his visits, scarred and hurt and left irreparably damaged by predators or the very people expected to care for them. He watched her stand her ground in the face of growls and hisses and scratches, never relenting in her attempts to show them the kindness she felt they were entitled to.

It always struck Hop as strange, to know that Pokémon could be unwanted. To him, it had always seemed as though they were worth even more than he was. To see them abused to such horrible extents—

Deplorable. Absolutely _deplorable_. Hop could _never_ condone such cruelty against them, no matter how much he resents them.

The Corvisquire chirps, fluttering his wings. He’s finished off both plates in record time. Hop wonders if that means he’s visiting from far away.

“Have a safe trip.” He says, watching the bird ready itself for flight.

The Corvisquire glances at him, puffs out his chest proudly, as if to say ' _not necessary you fool_ ' , and takes off into the sky, his figure becoming smaller and smaller until he disappears into Hammerlocke’s congested skyline.

Hop watches blankly, until a knock on his door startles him.

“Kiddo!” Raihan’s voice carries into his room. “You all set?”

“Yes!” Hop replies, snatching his bag from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. It’s light, filled with the bare essentials, but it should get him through the next few days.

He isn’t exactly keen on the champion’s sudden offer to take him along on what was supposed to be a work trip, but Hop’s need for definitive answers and curiosity couldn’t be held at bay for long. He agreed with little fuss, much to the champion’s delight.It would do him good to gain a little more perspective. Marnie hated Wyndon and its people, but before Hop went ahead and jumped on the bandwagon, he wanted to see the place with his own eyes and judge them accordingly.

He wants to see the city the Champion chose over his own birthplace.

When he makes it to the living room, he finds Raihan and the champion chatting quietly. The latter is the first to notice his presence, grinning brightly upon his arrival.

“Ready to go?” He asks, adjusting the silly crown cap on his head. Hop doesn’t know why he was foolish enough to believe it wouldn’t be making a reappearance. One look and he was already cringing at the sight of it. “Packed everything you need?”

“Yeah.” Hop replies. “It’s only a few days. Don’t need much.”

“You’d do well on a journey. Packing light is critical.”

“Not interested.” Hop glances at his phone. “What time are our tickets for?”

“What tickets?”

“The train tickets.”

“We’re not taking the train.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware teleportation was an option.”

“I hear that’s a pretty fuc— _heckin_ ’ terrifying experience.” Raihan says conversationally. “Like, you squeeze through the ozone or the fabric of our reality or somethin’. Some bloke lost his arm when he got his Hatterene to do it for him, apparently. Brutal, innit?”

Hop turns to the champion.

“How irresponsible can you be?”

“We are _not_ teleporting.” He clarifies, glaring at Raihan. “We’re _flying_ there.”

“Because we can’t take the train?”

“It’ll take too long with all the stops, it’s too crowded this time of day, and it allows us a little more discretion.” The champion explains, listing the reasons off with his fingers. “Also, I thought it could be a good experience for you. Maybe you’ll like flying as much as I do.”

“Can Arthur even carry us both?” Hop asks, glancing out the glass doors onto the terrace, where the Charizard is doing laps through the air to warm up for their voyage. “Won’t we be too heavy?”

“Don’t underestimate the strongest ‘zard in the world.” The champion responds with an abundance of confidence, handing Hop a harness. “Here. For safety.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t need one. I’ve got plenty of experience.”

“…Raihan, do you have an extra harness?” Hop asks, turning to the taller man, only to find the spot where he was once standing vacant. “Raihan…?”

“One sec!” He calls from his room. “I’ve got ya!”

“I don’t need one.” The champion insists, setting his hands on his hips. “We’ll be okay like this.”

“ _No way_. I’m not gonna watch you fall and go _splat_.”

He gasps.

“I-I...I don’t want you to go splat either.” The champion holds a hand to his heart, eyes glittering obnoxiously, as if the mere suggestion that Hop doesn’t want him plummeting to his death is anything he should be touched by. “You’re the _last_ person I want to go splat.”

“How ‘bout we shut up about this going splat business. Agreed? _Agreed_.” Raihan interrupts, switching Hop’s harness with his own. It’s stylized with his classic dragon fangs and orange stitching. “Take this one, Hops, it’s got more flare. Let your bro get the ugly plain one. Arceus knows his face has enough of that pretty business goin’ on.”

“Pretty business?” Hop scrutinizes the supposed pretty boy’s face. “I guess he’s kinda sparkly.”

“Hella sparkly. It’s fuckin’ annoying.”

“ _Language_.” Champion Leon chides, leading the way outside. “If it makes you feel better, Hop, I’ll wear it. Just so you don’t think I’ll go splat.”

“It’ll be annoying if you go splat.”

“What did I _just_ say about talking about going splat?”

The champion whistles for Arthur. The Charizard gracefully lands before them, pumped and ready for another long distance flight.Raihan settles Hop onto his back, strapping him in securely while the champion does the same for himself, plopping down behind him.

“Say Eevee!” Raihan says cheerfully. Hop barely has time to react before a barrage of flashes nearly blind him. “Now look at _that_. You two are _precious_.” He coos. “I’m gonna get these printed and framed.”

“Don’t you need to ask permission before taking someone’s photo?” Hop demands.

Raihan’s whole demeanor droops.

“Want me to delete them?” He asks, looking completely heartbroken. Like a kicked Yamper times one hundred. “I can if you want…”

What is Hop _supposed_ to say?

“…No.” He responds with a pout. “It’s fine. Just…please ask next time.”

“Ace!” Raihan grins, perking right up. Hop decides he’s probably never going to be able to win against him.

“Ready for take off?” The champion asks. “The sooner we get there, the better.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Hop mumbles.

“Be safe.” Raihan tells them. “Most importantly, try to have some fun. And get me a souvenir while you’re at it, Hops. I’m a fan of those keychains, personally.”

“O-Okay.” Hop replies, nervously gripping the saddle. Now that he’s here, he’s not so sure agreeing was a good idea. “W-We’re not gonna die are we?”

“Nobody’s dying, Hop.” The champion reassures him. “This is perfectly safe.”

“Is it legal?”

“I’m the champion.”

“ _What?_ ”

“On the count of three, Arthur!”

The Charizard cries out in affirmation.

“Ready? One—“

Hop’s tightens his grip.

“Two—“

He shuts his eyes, praying to his mother above for her divine protection. Maybe she could pull in a favor or two from Arceus.

“And—“

A beat of silence passes.

Hop tentatively cracks an eye open.

“…Are we—“

“ _Three_!”

Charizard launches into the sky with an unprecedented ferocity.

The scream that bellows out of Hop’s throat is barely audible to him over the sound of wind roaring past them, the beating of his own heart deafening in his ears. He desperately clings to Arthur’s neck, trying to ignore the sense of weightlessness turning his bone and muscle into jelly.

Behind him, the champion’s exhilarated laughter reverberates against his back, completely at odds with the sheer terror he’s experiencing.

“C’mon Hop!” He exclaims, excitement audible. “Open your eyes!”

“ _No_!”

“You’re not going to fall!”

“I-I will! I’ll fall and die!”

“I won’t let you! Trust me!”

“I _can’t_!”

“Can you at least stop strangling, Arthur? We’re losing altitude!”

“ _What_?” Hop screams, immediately ripping his arms away from the appreciative Charizard, eyes unintentionally snapping open in the process.

And he sees—

The _sky_.

Sees blue and misty white, cirrus and cirrocumulus and cirrostratus stretching endlessly beyond the horizon. An assortment of flying type Pokémon sweep by them, disappearing and emerging from the soft mist, soaring with a practiced grace and ease.

“…Oh.”

They aren’t losing altitude. Not at all. In fact, they couldn’t be higher without breaching the stratosphere.

“Not so bad, huh?” The champion comments casually, hair billowing behind him. “Prettiest view you’ll ever see. Don’t look down by the way. If you’re scared of heights, I mean.”

Hop does the exact opposite, turning his sights downward.

Hammerlocke is but a speck from where they are, verdant green stretching onward beyond the city, peaking into mountaintops and hills, dipping into valleys and golden plains.

“S’that why you’re always up here?” Hop asks, holding out his hand. It’s almost as if he can grab a piece of the sky and take it back with him.

“Partially. Mainly because…I don’t know. Nothing can touch me up here. Nothing’s _here_ , except the sky and the clouds and me and Art. It’s nice to have a place where you don’t have to be anything. You just…exist. For a little while. And the world’s okay with that. Have you got a place like that? O-Or did you before, um, _before_?”

“The roof.” Hop shares for whatever reason. Maybe it’s the scenery. Maybe he’s feeling talkative. Maybe it’s because there’s nothing here. He doesn’t know. “I used to climb the roof and—Mostly at night. It made me feel smaller.”

“Did you want to feel smaller?”

“I don’t know. It made feel better. Like I wasn’t anything that mattered.”

“That’s…I’m sorry, but I don’t really see how that’s a good thing...”

“I don’t expect you to understand.” Hop can’t help but remark snidely. Of course the champion of all people wouldn’t get the idea of being anything _but_ larger than life. “It’s…I don’t know. I thought maybe if I pictured myself small enough, I could disappear and—not be myself, I guess.”

“What’s wrong with being yourself?”

“Why are you asking _me_ that?” Hop replies without an ounce of emotion. Wanting to steer the conversation elsewhere, he points down towards the meters upon meters of green acres below. “What’s that?”

“The wild area.” The champion answers. “That’s where wild Pokémon live and where I usually train my team. It’s pretty dangerous though, so I’d rather you avoid it until you’re ready.”

“I’m not planning on going.” Hop replies, because he’s heard stories from Sonia. About getting lost and injured and nearly being mauled by a _Beartic_. Why would he ever want to go there?

“You never know. If you ever go on a journey—“

“I told you I’m not interested.” Hop snaps. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because not everyone has to be like you, Mr. Champion, _sir_.”

“I’m not saying they do. I’m just, y’know, suggesting it. You never know. You might even give _me_ a run for my money one day.” He chuckles, as if the thought of Hop reaching anywhere near this level is laughable. As if it’s hardly even worth the effort of thinking about.

As if Hop hasn’t heard that same joke a thousand times over.

“I’m _not_ interested.” He grits out. “I’ll _never_ be interested.”

“What _are_ you interested in, then?”

“Not battling.”

“Really? Because I’m sure if you gave it a chance you’d—“

“Can we not talk about this? Or at all?”

“I-If that’s what you want…”

The rest of the flight is spent in stony silence.

* * *

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes. I don’t want anyone splashing your face _anywhere_.”

“I thought you said your lawyers were handling it?”

“I don’t want to risk it. People know to look for me here.”

“Doesn’t this place have security?”

“Yeah, but…just make do until we get to the pitch, okay? _Please_?”

Hop grunts, tugging the ends of the royal red mantle higher so it isn’t dragging on the floor. Upon their arrival at Wyndon Stadium, the champion had thrown the heavy cape over his head, tossed him over his shoulder and sprinted inside, not releasing him until they were completely out of sight of anybody who happened to be loitering outside the building or within the lobby.

Hop was, understandably, _upset_ at being manhandled in such an uncouth manner, but the champion had insisted on it being for his own safety and comfort, which he couldn’t really argue with given the ear piercing screeches and horrific sound of about a _million_ camera shutters going off.

Perhaps a million is exaggerating, but ending up on the nightly news wasn’t anything he was interested in. Not that he actually watched the news. Or much television besides _Galar Rangers 24_ , but _still_.

“How long is this hallway?” Hop complains, stumbling on the accursed mantle for the umpteenth time. “Why is this stadium so big? Why are we even here?”

“Not much longer, notoriety, and work.”

“What work do you have besides battling and looking nice for the camera?”

The champion lets out a hearty laugh, although it’s not anywhere near amused or joyful. It sounds bitter and resigned, entirely out of character, Hop notes, but what does he know?

“If that was all there was to it, I’d be the happiest guy on Earth.”

Hop doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything and focuses back on his feet.

They walk in silence, the only audible sound the whirring of the stadium's temperature control unit and their shoes clacking against the pristinely polished floors.

The only indication Hop receives that they’ve made it to where they’re headed is when he walks straight into the champion’s broad back, nearly falling backwards if not for his quick reflexes. Not as quick as Raihan’s, per se, but respectable for the way they save him from a traumatic brain injury at the hand’s of Galar’s most revered sports stadium.

“Sorry. Forgot you can’t see.”

“Raihan made a joke about you two sharing a braincell once.” Hop says abruptly, voice muffled through the heavy fabric. “I think he’s borrowing it right now.”

That earns a genuine laugh out of the champion, not that Hop’s especially glad about it or anything.

“Leon!” An unfamiliar voice reaches them. “You’ve arrived. It’s been quite a while hasn’t it?”

“Sir.” The champion responds in kind. “Yeah, it has. Good to be back. I take it everything’s all set?”

“We’re only missing the star of the show. Make-up and wardrobe are ready whenever you are. We’ve taken your choices into consideration. A few have been modified, but we’ve kept as close to your wishes as possible.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll go get ready.” Hop is almost ready to believe he’s been forgotten yet _again_ , when the champion sets a hand on his shoulder. “I should introduce you.”

“Introduce me to the floating mantle?”

“Floating—Oh, _shoot_. Forgot. _Again_.” The cape is pulled away, revealing a sweaty and flushed red Hop. “Sorry about that. Sir, this is Hop, my younger brother. Hop, this is Chairman Rose. He’s in charge of the Pokémon League, and he's my boss.”

“I prefer the term colleague.” Chairman Rose kneels until he’s at eye-level with Hop. He’s a middle-aged man it appears, wearing a methodically pressed grey suit, boasting perfectly styled hair and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. His eyes are a mesmerizing shade of hazel, downturned slightly to project a kind expression. “Hello, Hop. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, although I’m afraid my knowledge of you is rather lacking. Leon’s not much for sharing.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, sir.” Hop replies. “And it’s all right. I’m not worth talking about.”

“Hm?” Rose briefly glances at Leon, who’s guiltily staring at his shoes. “I’m not sure about that. Everyone is worth speaking about, even you. Any family of Leon is nothing short of family of my own. Will you be joining us for today?”

“Champion Leon invited me, so I guess I am, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Rose rises to full height. “Why don’t you get ready, Leon? I’ll keep young Hop here company.”

“Is that all right with you?”

“Yeah.” Hop kicks at the floor. “It’s fine.”

He hesitates a moment longer, before taking off towards the make up artists who shoo him down another hall the moment they see him, leaving Hop with the chairman.

“Would you care for breakfast?” Rose asks, gesturing towards the buffet tables set up around the pitch, to the side of a myriad of photography equipment. Lights, cameras and strange metallic sheets surround the center, the crew standing idle as they await their subject.

“Breakfast?” He repeats.

“Well, perhaps it’s more dessert." The chairman's eyes twinkle mischievously. "I tend to go with my own preferences, which include sweets of all kinds. In the mood for a biscuit? Muffins? A danish perhaps?”

“I-I like danishes.”

“Brilliant.” Rose smiles kindly, walking alongside him towards the sweets. “We also have coffee, tea and a few different berry juices. Although, I’d advise against the coffee. Too much caffeine and you’ll end up an addict like myself.”

“I don’t really like coffee. Do you have non-caffeinated tea?”

“You’re saving yourself a lot of trouble with those preferences.” Rose chuckles, and it cracks a smile out of Hop as well. There’s something incredibly pleasant about his easy-going nature. Hop doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone quite like him. Except maybe Marnie, but she’s a special case altogether. “Stick with the sweets. They may pack on the pounds,” He comically rubs his belly. “But you get a lot more enjoyment out of them.”

“I think so, too. My mum used to drink a lot of coffee without milk or sugar or anything. She said it was because she was bitter inside and out. I never really understood it.”

“Your…mother.” Rose hands him a plate and a pair of tongs. “My apologies, Hop. Leon’s informed me about…well, what’s happened. You have my sincerest condolences.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

“I take it Leon’s been taking care of you. No problems as of yet?”

Hop shrugs a bit awkwardly. He isn’t comfortable with sharing any specific details, so he gives a vague reply.

“We’ve been fine.”

Sensing his discomfort, the chairman apologizes.

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to pry into your private lives. It’s only…Leon is _incredibly_ young. Twenty years is nowhere near old enough to fully ascertain the responsibilities of child rearing. I’m a senior in comparison to him, and _I_ struggle with it. I have two children you see, and sometimes I can barely keep up with their antics.” He pauses, gazing thoughtfully at Hop. “Although, I’m sure that’s not an issue with you. I can tell you’re a young man with a good head on your shoulders.”

“Th-Thank you, sir.” Hop’s cheeks glow pink. “But that’s not true at all.”

“Don’t mistake modesty with diffidence.” Rose chides, although it’s gentle and not at all critical. “But I can understand your position. With the champion as a sibling, it must be difficult to distinguish yourself apart from him.”

“Yeah.” Hop mumbles, biting into his danish forlornly. “A little.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to sour your mood. It’s good to know our weak points, but once we do, all that’s left to do is build upon them. Champion Leon may be one of Galar’s brightest stars, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t more than enough space for you in our sky. Or that you need to get there by the same means.”

“…Do you mean it?” Hop asks quietly, chest constricting. Nobody’s ever told him _anything_ like that. It’s always been ‘ _how could you ever be like the champion_ ’, not ‘ _you don’t need to be like him_.’ “Really…?”

“Of course…?” Rose blinks, taking in his appearance. Discreetly, he slips a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and holds it out. “Nobody’s looking.” He whispers. “Take your time.”

Hop nods, placing his plate aside and wiping his face with the soft, elegantly embroidered cloth.

“Sorry.” He murmurs, voice quaking. “I’m sorry.”

“No worries, young man.” The chairman reassures him, positioning himself to better block Hop from view. “You’ve been through a lot lately, haven’t you? I’m afraid it’s not always simple to keep our emotions in check, especially when we are actively trying to.”

“Sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Come. Why don’t I prepare tea for you and we can go sit down and watch the chaos unfold. Photoshoots with Leon are always a joy to witness.”

“Really?”

“Most assuredly.” Rose winks. “You’ll see exactly what I’m talking about soon.”

Hop does.

He seats himself upon a bench to the side of the field with the chairman and the tea prepared for him, and is throughly flabbergasted by the methodology behind getting a perfectly dynamic shot. The amount of fans blowing air into his face to get his hair to flap around just _right_ , all the posing and copious amounts of make up touch ups are, honestly, impressive.

Although, the touching and prodding and requests to look just a _little_ more cheerier or to be _a lot more_ intense or impassioned or, ew gross gross, _seductive_ , don’t do anything to settle the disquiet ever present in Hop's tummy since the moment he was overwhelmed with questions from his classmates.

And where the champion keeps his composure and follows directions to the utmost precision, uttering niceties and polite banter with the people taking photo after photo of him in different variations of his champion regalia, nothing about the task seems to elicit even an iota of pleasure or joy from him. In fact, Hop is more inclined to call what one photographer labels as ‘ _smoldering_ ’, a stone faced display of indifference.

Despite the attention, despite the assurances that the fans would love every single one of the shots, despite glancing at Hop a few times to grin or roll his eyes or wave as if he's having a _champion time_ —

He doesn’t look happy.

Hop wonders why that seems to be a running theme with their family.


	9. back in business (part ii)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all that glitters is not gold

The photoshoot is by far the most eventful part of the day.

But that’s mostly because Hop spends the entire time stuffing his face with pastry after pastry at the chairman’s behest. They share a pleasant time chatting about their favorites and where to purchase the best Alcremie rolls.

Not that Hop can provide much input on the latter portion of their conversation considering he’s been to two bakeries _tops_ in his entire life, but it’s interesting in a really sad way to daydream about Wyndon’s expensive and high quality goods with a man who could probably buy each establishment a thousand times over, assuming he doesn’t own them already.

The sky transport is at the very least enjoyable. Hop even gets to pet the Corviknight who’s kind enough to ferry them around. The chairman says it’s a sign of good luck to be bestowed upon with such an honor. Hop thinks he’s probably making that up, but appreciates the sentiment.

“Have you never ridden in a Corviknight Taxi?” Rose asks his first go around, seated between him and the champion.

“No, this is my first time.” Hop responds, face pressed against the window. Below them lies Wyndon and all the tiny people who inhabit it. “This city’s so shiny.”

“It’s inspired by steel types. I’m rather fond of them.”

“Do you like steel types because it’s shiny?”

“It’s shiny because I like steel types. _I_ ordered the construction of Wyndon.”

It takes a moment for that statement to sink in.

“ _You_ built it?” Hop asks incredulously. “B-But aren’t cities old? You’re so young!”

Chairman Rose looks delighted by that comment.

“You flatter me, Hop. I simply put in the order. The actual construction was done by Macro Cosmos Construction and Macro Cosmos Energy. I own both those subsidiaries, but the heavy lifting is done by the employees. It didn’t take very long thanks to their stellar work and dedication.”

“That’s amazing.” Hop gushes. “It must have been difficult, ‘specially in the mountains.”

“And what are mountains if not for scaling, hm? Anything is possible as long as you put in the effort.”

“You must have worked very hard.”

“I can’t accredit it all to myself.” Rose modestly remarks. “It was difficult, yes, and not everyone was supportive of my dreams, but there are kind people everywhere, and they are the very reason I’ve accomplished as much as I have up to this point. They are also the reason I will continue to push myself to greater heights.”

Hop is astounded by the sheer confidence the chairman displays. He wishes _he_ could talk with that sort of cadence, knowing who he is, what he’s done, and where he wants to go.

“Y-Y’know,” The champion pipes up from where he’s been silently staring out the window. “The chairman was also a trainer back in his day.”

“Back in _my_ day?” The chairman raises an eyebrow. “How tactless of you, Champion Leon. You could certainly learn a thing or two from young Hop about manners and subtlety. _Honestly_.”

The champion sputters, failing to produce a proper come back. Hop smirks, gratified at the way the tables have been turned for _once_.

“You used to battle, sir?” Hop turns back to their conversation.

“I did. I was decent at it, but I found my interests being swayed more towards the business side of things.” He gives Hop an inquiring look. “I don’t suppose you enjoy a good battle yourself?”

“No.” Hop offers immediately. “I don’t like it at all.”

“That’s certainly respectable. There are many paths you can take in this world. I’m sure the one you choose for yourself will grant you happiness and fulfillment. It’s rare that those should come in pairs, but entirely possible for you to achieve. Call it a hunch, but I have high hopes for you, Hop.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re very welcome.” The chairman winks, to which Hop smiles.

Everything besides the taxi is pretty boring, though.

As far as activities go, Hop is relegated to sitting beside the champion at conference table after conference table, trying to make sense of contract dealings and sponsorship tie-ins and a whole lot of complicated legal jargon that flies right over his head. He’s sure Sonia would be able to explain it to him were she present, but she isn’t and as it’s not particularly interesting, he settles for doodling in a Macro Cosmos branded notepad given to him by the chairman to amuse himself with.

Hop’s part way through doodling a Corvisquire, when his shoulder is poked. He frowns at the champion, who doesn't look to be paying any kind of attention to the business talk.

“ _What_?” He whispers, annoyed.

“Let’s play a game.” The champion suggests. “To pass the time.”

“Pay attention.” Hop scolds. “They’re talking about you.”

“My input doesn’t really matter.” The champion shrugs, tugging at Hop’s notepad. “ _C’mon_ , let’s play tic-tac-toe.”

“I wanna _draw_.”

“Then let me draw with you.”

“There’s only one pen.”

“Let me borrow it.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“ _No_.”

“ _Gentlemen_?” The current speaker, going over a chart projected onto the large LED screen on the farther side of the room, clears his throat, gathering their attention. “Would you like to share anything?”

“No, thank you.” The champion smiles amicably in the face of a dozen intimidating business people dressed in expensive suits. “Continue.”

Speaker man raises a single eyebrow, but gets back to droning on and on and _on_.

Hop thinks that’ll be the end of the pestering, but the champion keeps on poking him, and it’s so _annoying_ , he has no choice but to give in and shove the pen over, if only to stop himself from smacking the idiot with it.

The champion grins triumphantly and starts scribbling whatever it is he’s been so keen on drawing during a presumably important meeting about his livelihood or net worth or whatever.

“There.” He says after a few moments, passing the notepad back over to Hop. “Take a look.”

Hop can’t mask his surprise.

He’s staring back at his own face, albeit cartoonishly exaggerated, with puffed out pouty cheeks and the grumpiest expression he’s ever seen put to paper. It’s honestly quite good, especially given how quickly it was completed.

He wasn’t aware the champion had a single artistic bone in his body.

“Why am I angry?” Hop asks, confused by how miffed he looks.

“You’re not?” The champion tilts his head, equally as bemused. “That’s how you usually look.”

“… _Gimme that._ ” Hop snatches the pen back and sets upon doodling his own representation of the champion, making sure to give it the stupid crown cap, mantle, a goofy smile, and the thickest eyebrows and messiest hair he can manage. He draws a cuter Charizard beside him to represent Arthur, because Arthur deserves a more respectable likeness. “ _There_.”

Hop is expecting denial, complaining, or whining about how totally _not_ like him it looks. Maybe a few peppered criticisms.

 _Not_ a very loud and obnoxious snort of laughter.

“…Is there something you’d like to say, Champion Leon?” Speaker man asks again, more annoyed this time. Hop stares down at his lap, feeling throughly chastised despite not being specifically called out. “Some input, perhaps?”

“I, uh—“ The Champion sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, smothering his laughter into his other hand. “…No, sir, nothing at all.”

“…Very well.”

The meeting continues, as boring as ever.

Hop reluctantly agrees to play a few games of tic-tac-toe, if only to pass the time. He wins every round strangely enough, even when he purposely sets out to lose.

The champion only shrugs at his questioning glance.

“Can’t be good at everything.” He says, proceeding to lose _yet another_ round despite Hop giving him every opportunity to win. “Guess you’ve beat me at this.”

Hop doesn’t know whether or not to be annoyed, so he clamps his mouth shut and doesn’t comment on it.

* * *

“A press conference?”

“A press conference.” The champion repeats from his perch on an expensive looking desk chair. By late evening, they were finally free of the day’s hectic schedule, the chairman seeing them off at Rose of the Rondelands, where they were to lodge for the remainder of their trip. “And a party afterwards. They’re not anything interesting, so you don’t need to tag along if you don’t want to.”

Hop hums, eyes fixed on the view beyond the balcony windows.

It’s nothing special, just a bunch of high-rises and visual noise and bright lights drowning out the starry night sky. Hammerlocke is arguably no better, but at least there’s a history to its existence. When he looks down from the stadium spires and observes the houses built centuries before his birth, he feels _something_. A sense for the people who were born and lived and passed on, leaving behind their livelihoods to the next generations of Hammerlockians, from their architecture to their customs to Galar’s entire history hidden behind the safety of its vaults.

Wyndon boasts none of that.

It’s too clean, too shiny, too metallic. There’s an artificialness that makes his skin crawl, makes Hop yearn for the open fields, fresh air, and clear skies of Postwick and Wedgehurst.

Whatever toxicity and tragedy and sorrow are imbedded into their rich soil and hidden behind the facade of sweet countryfolk tending to their crops, at least it’s natural. Born of the land. Wyndon feels like an ice box in comparison. A city created on a production line and sold to the highest bidder.

Perhaps it’s unfair to judge a city like that, one that the chairman’s clearly put all his effort into bringing into existence. He’s successfully managed to craft a prosperous and gleaming metropolis of the future, one the entire region can be proud of.

But Hop simply cannot imagine himself ever living here. The sheer amount of people is overwhelming enough, although those may be his country boy sensibilities clouding his judgement.

It’s certainly the perfect place for a champion, he thinks, but perhaps not for a man wearing a thinly-veiled mask.

“Would you like to go…?” The champion follows up tentatively. “I’d like it if you did. I don’t usually have a lot of moral support at these things.”

“Do I count as moral support?”

“Of course you do.” The champion smiles, hopeful. Always so accursedly _hopeful_. “It might be boring, but there’s usually lots of interesting foods to try, even if everyone acts like that’s not the reason they’re there.”

“Are you bribing me?”

“Would you agree to go if I was?”

“…Maybe.” Hop mumbles. Passing up the opportunity the gorge on free food sounded ill-advised and detrimental to his investigation. Observing the champion in his natural habitat was his goal, and if it happened to mean indulging in a few added bonuses, who was Hop to turn them down? “…All right.”

“Ace.” The champion stretches his arms over his head, yawning. “Since that’s settled, how about we get ready for bed? We’ve got an early rise tomorrow.”

“Can I take a shower first?”

“Go ahead. I’ll _hop_ _in_ after you.” The champion laughs at his own pun. If only he knew their mother had already made the same joke about _a million times_ during the course of Hop’s entire life.

“You’re not funny.” He grumbles, collecting a towel and toiletries from his bag.

“That’s subjective.” The champion pouts, before boldly declaring his next words. “And I’ll definitely get you to laugh one of these days. You can count on it.”

“Don't you think you're enough of a clown as it is?”

"...I think I'm going to lie down for a sec."

Hop rolls his eyes and heads towards the bathroom.

He showers and changes into a brand new set of Duraludon pajamas Raihan gifted him, having taken a sudden interest in buying him increasingly goofy looking nightwear. One admission about feeling obligated to wear his mum’s purchases and the guy had taken it upon himself to keep up the tradition in her stead. Hop doesn't necessarily mind it. It brings him a familiar sense of warmth and belonging, even if Raihan likely only saw it as a silly and harmless joke to tease him about.

When he exits the steamy bathroom, toweling his damp hair, he returns to the champion already fast asleep, curled up on his side, hugging a pillow to his chest.

So much for _hopping in_ after him.

For once, he _isn’t_ plastering on whatever expression is most convenient for him at the moment. There’s no bombastic declarations, no arrogant preening, no annoying hopefulness.No barely contained sighs, no half-hearted smiles, no wincing at camera flashes or mechanically shaking his head as numbers and percentages are rattled off at him.

He looks peaceful, shadows under his eyes and all.

“… _no Hop_.” He mutters to himself, fingers twitching at his sides. “You will _not_ take the opportunity to draw on his face.”

A very, _very_ tempting act of mischief, but petty and dangerous. Who knows how much trouble he’d get into if Galar’s beloved hero showed up to his hype show with a poorly drawn mustache and monocle on his face.

Tempting, but not his style.

Hop folds his clothing and places it into his bag, leaving the towel out to dry. He plugs in his phone to charge, Rotom buzzing happily in response, and settles under the covers to get some much needed rest after a hectic day in the big city.

Or at least tries to.

An odd, synthetic noise echoes through the room suddenly, a flash of red light accompanying it.

“…Guess it’s not too comfortable bein’ stuck in a pokéball, huh?” Hop whispers, unsurprised by the trio of yellow eyes that greet him through the darkness. Galahad’s become something of a regular fixture to his mornings, he, Gwin and Gwen taking to rooming with him every night. Hop doesn’t think he’s ever experienced anything stranger than opening his eyes to find his limbs phasing right through a family of ghost dragons in their attempt to accommodate him on his own bed, but he supposes that’s another experience to add to his ‘ _well I guess this is a thing now_ ’ mind journal. “G’night.”

Galahad plops down next to him, Gwin and Gwen following.

Hop closes his eyes again.

He doesn’t get very far along the sleep cycle.

A familiar huffy growl reaches him next. An incessant tugging at the bed sheets follows.

“…Don’t be mad, Mordred.” Hop scolds, eyes snapping open again. The Haxorus is glaring down at him, something akin to betrayal written all over her. “Blame _him_ for not bringing your bed.”

She casts a reproachful look at her blissfully unaware trainer, but otherwise, remains rooted to the spot.

Hop sighs.

“C’mon.” He lifts the covers. Mordred scrambles in beside him, resting on her stomach. Hop winces at the sound of fabric tearing, and hopes the hotel staff won’t be too angry at having their fine linens torn apart by a pouty Haxorus. “Better?”

Mordred purrs, rubbing her beak against Hop’s cheek. He takes it as a yes.

Incorrectly assuming that will be the end of it, he makes another fruitless attempt to get to sleep.

He is, of course, _wrong_ , because a few moments later, one last pokéball bursts open.

“Arthur, I don’t think there’s any more room.“ Hop groans, burying his face into his pillow. “We can’t all fit.”

Assuming the stubborn Charizard cares is a mistake, because he curls up on the farther end of the bed, snapping irritably at Mordred, who starts kicking at him for the sake of causing confrontation. She isn't very fond of Arthur at _all_ , Hop's discovered, a far cry from her respectful and incredibly friendly behavior with Galahad, who he thinks is the trio's guiding light and designated mediator for all spats when their trainer isn't around to set them straight.

Too bad he's sleeping right now.

“ _Stop that_.” Hop scowls, taking the role upon himself with a hefty threat. “Behave or you’re _all_ going back.”

They settle down at that, Arthur huffing and facing the other direction. Mordred goes back to chewing on the corner of his pillow.

After all that, Hop is, _finally_ , allowed to sleep.

* * *

“How many times are you going to look at it?”

“Probably a million more.” The champion responds, not bothering to hide the embarrassing grin stretched across his face as he glances at his phone’s wallpaper for the _umpteenth_ time.

The _one_ _time_ Hop is still sleeping when he wakes up, he snaps a picture of him drooling, his bedhead at its absolute _worst,_ sweating up a storm because, apparently, cold-blooded dragons were fond of heat sources, even in their sleep _._ “You do know why that’s not happening ever again though, don’t you?”

“ _Yes_ , Mr. Champion, _sir_.” Hop rolls his eyes. Was one lengthy early morning sermon not enough? “Because ‘ _my_ _Pokémon friends are very heavy and will be very sad when they wake up to find out they crushed me while we were asleep’._ ”

“And?”

“‘ _Arthur_ _is easily startled at night, making him a fire hazard’_.”

“It is what it is, Hop.” The champion tells him with a sympathetic expression. “You can play around and cuddle and do whatever you want with them during the day, but at night, it’s Pokéball time.”

“Whatever, _mum_.” Hop mutters. “I get it.”

“Good.”

For a good few seconds, they stand in silence, the only sound audible the hum of the hotel elevator descending to the ground floor. It took a ridiculous amount of effort to make it that far, Hop unaware of just how atrocious the champion’s sense of direction was until he had to take point and drag him around by the cape, forcing him to read the very helpful directories scattered just about everywhere.

“Can you stop looking at it?” Hop complains when the champion goes back to smiling goofily at his phone. “It’s _embarrassing_.”

“I think you look adorable.”

“I look _dumb_.”

“I asked if you wanted me to delete it. You said it was fine.”

“It _is_.” Hop stuffs his hand into his pockets. “S’just embarrassing.”

“Is there a reason you don’t like pictures?” The champion asks, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I get wanting to have input and consent, but you sound like you _really_ hate them.”

Hop debates on whether or not to answer.

“Once…” He begins, hesitantly. He figures there's no harm in it at this point. “Once, someone stopped by the house while I was playing outside and—It had to be a reporter or something. I don’t know. But they came and took a picture of me and started asking questions. I didn’t answer any ‘cause I didn’t understand what they were talking about, but mum came out and started yelling at them and smashed their camera.” Hop stares at the elegant Roselia etched into the floor. “Nobody like that ever came again, but she always told me to be careful. To never let anyone take a photo of me without my permission.”

“…That was probably for the best.”

“I guess.”

They don’t speak again until they finally make it outside the dictated conference room, (their arrival aided in _no part_ by the champion) where the chairman awaits them.

“A very good morning to the both of you.” He greets, dressed as primly as he was the day prior. “I take it you’re ready, Leon?”

“Good to go.”

“Brilliant.” Rose turns his attention to Hop, holding out a badge strapped onto the end of a lanyard. “In case anyone asks any questions or, I suppose, in case _you_ have any questions.” He taps the bold lettered ‘PRESS’ on the badge with a smile. “Don’t hold back on account of your brother here. He’s mastered the art of difficult question answering.”

“You’ve given him a little too much power there, Chairman.” Leon laughs. “You’ll regret it when he tears me to shreds and has me ousted.”

“You can do that to yourself just fine.” Hop huffs, settling the badge around his neck. “What exactly is this press conference about?”

“The battle, of course.” Rose answers, bemused. “Didn’t you know? The champion is to participate in an exhibition match tomorrow. It’s the very reason he’s traveled all this way in the first place.”

“He’s not very good at explaining things.” Hop sends him a look. “At _all_.”

“If I said it was for a battle, you might not have come.” The champion tells him, appropriately guilt-ridden. “I wanted you to come.”

“So you lied?”

“Technically _no_ , because it _is_ work related.” He replies nervously, running his fingertips over the brim of his hat. “Battling is sorta part of my job. I... _omitted,_ let’s say, a few details.”

Hop doesn’t have the patience to deal with this.

Part of him is tempted to throw the stupid press badge in the champion’s dumb face, but his more rational, Sonia guided side tells him it’s not worth the trouble or the headache.

The truth of the matter _does_ make Hop regret not going ahead and drawing all over his face, but there’s no point in lamenting the past. It’s not _that_ big a deal, anyway. He can behave and be civil and maybe demand Raihan have a talk with the champion over honesty when they get back, because maybe _then_ it’ll get through that thick, over-inflated skull of his.

“Whatever.” Hop sighs in the end. “Should we go in?”

“Of course you can.” The chairman takes the opportunity to steer them away from what was beginning to look like a personal squabble. “I’ve had a seat reserved for you. Look for your name. There are refreshments and snacks in the back if you’re so inclined. Leon and I have a few matters to discuss before we begin, so we’ll be right back.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’s no trouble, son.” Rose smiles kindly, ushering him inside. “In the meantime, try to think of a few questions to knock your brother off balance.”

“ _Chairman._ ”

Hop does as he’s told and scouts the room for a chair with his name (after a quick stop for a delicious Alcremie roll or two.)

He’s half-expecting it to be a lie and half-expecting to read ‘ _reserved for champion’s lesser brother_ ’ but is pleasantly surprised to find his actual name written in swirly, golden calligraphy. He seats himself, wondering if it looks odd for a child to be seated in the front row during a conference presumably filled with reporters looking for…well, he doesn’t quite _know_ what they’re looking to find out. Battle strategy? Gossip? Hair care tips?

Out of lack of anything else to do, Hop glances around the room, relieved to note nobody’s paying him any mind, engrossed in their laptops or tablets or adjusting their cameras to get the best shot of a guy with a ridiculous cap on his head, about to spout nonsense about champion times and first hand accounts on what being the most amazing person ever is like. 

“Aren’t you a bit too young to be reporting anything?”

Looks like he thought too soon.

Hop blinks as a woman with striking blonde hair takes a seat next to him. There’s a pen behind her ear, a notepad in one hand, coffee in the other.

“Maybe.” Hop responds, vaguely offended. “Aren’t you a little too established to make assumptions like that?”

The woman raises an eyebrow. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting a response like that.

“What makes you say I’m established?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“I could say the same for you but, besides the badge, I’m not sure what else there is to vouch for. What, you the champ’s illegitimate son or something?” She gives him a critical once over. “Hair’s one thing, but eyes like that are a dead giveaway. Not everyday you see ‘em.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, m’am.”

“Yeah? Didn’t mean to pry, kid.”She shrugs. “It’s in my job description to ask questions, you see, especially if they’ll get me a story. Is that what we have here? Or do you just so happen to be an unrelated, miniature doppelgänger, underage reporter who managed to snag a spot to this thing? Because I’m leaning towards the former.”

“There’s no story and I’m not obligated to tell you anything.”

“…Younger brother. Got it.”

“Excuse me?”

“He’s not exactly old enough to have a son your age.” The reporter says, taking a sip of her coffee. “And those looks don’t lie. Couple in an extended absence from the public eye and a few hush-hush restrictions from corporate—Makes sense. He’s keeping you hidden, and for anyone to go through the effort of doing that, they’ve gotta be family or closer. Champ’s a private guy, hardly ever lets anything slip, but he wasn’t always like that. He’s been doing this since he was a kid, hasn’t always known the name of the game. Learned to stop mentioning family a few years back, or anything related to his personal life at all. You’ve got to be his brother. Or at least a cousin. I’m leaning more towards brother, because the fact that he’s risking you being here at all speaks volumes. Must be bring your child to work day somewhere around the world, I reckon.”

Hop stares as she finishes her deductive rant. She gazes at him expectantly.

“...I’m sure glad I’m not champion.” Hop finally says, dumbstruck.

The reporter laughs.

“You get a handle on patterns after the first few years on the job.” She smiles at him. “No worries, I’m not planning on publishing anything on you. I’ve got a strict policy on keeping minors out of the news, story or not. Not healthy for business or our society, y’know?”

“That’s…kind of you.”

“Let’s call it journalistic integrity.” She sets her coffee onto the floor and pulls a card out of her purse, holding it out to him. “Gillian. Galar’s Gazette, based here in Wyndon. I mainly work on the investigative side of things, but occasionally they send me out to cover fluff pieces like this.” She rolls her eyes. “As if we don’t have anything _better_ to worry about.”

“Thank you?” Hop takes the card. It’s minimalistic, but gets the job done, the font favoring looking legible rather than fancy, the Galar Gazette’s logo printed on one corner. “I’m not sure when I’d need to have something investigated, though?”

“You never know. The world’s tilted for a reason, innit? Nothing straight and narrow here.”

“I guess not.” Hop agrees. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Gillian.”

“Just Gillian’s fine.” She shudders. “I’m not into that formal hierarchy nonsense. We’re all equals in the bullpen, I think. Not that anyone listens to me.”

Hop isn’t quite sure what she’s talking about, but he’s spared from formulating a response when the golden, gilded doors open and in walks the champion in all his glory, fully in uniform, a jovial jaunt to his step and a million watt grin on his face. Immediately the room erupts into an overwhelming deluge of camera flashes, videos rolling to record every second of it.

There are formal introductions, Chairman Rose starting things off with a brief report on previous issues having to do with the major and minor league standings and rankings? Hop’s not sure.

Gillian seems fine, given the amount of notes she quickly jots down for every word the chairman speaks.

Then, the question and answer portion of the conference starts.

And, _boy_ , is it something.

Hop can barely keep up with how quickly reporters start shouting out their inquiries, raising their hands or pens or tablets to call attention to themselves.

The champion doesn’t seem at all phased by it, not even as he’s confronted by a hard-hitter from the beginning.

“Can you explain the reasoning behind your absence? And will it have any bearing on the outcome of the match?”

“Ah, of course not!” The champion grins. “I’m in pique condition, and so’s my team. Losing isn’t my style, so we’ll be having none of that any time soon. Business as usual, everyone.”

“So you’re not at all worried?” Another reporter asks. “About losing that is. Not afraid this’ll set a precedent for the Champion Cup this coming summer?””

“Not at all. I’m more than prepared to continue defending my title. Doesn’t matter who I’m up against, that won’t change.”

“Not even when it’s—“

“Shit.” Gillian’s swearing catches Hop’s attention. She’s spilled coffee on her pantsuit. “Didn’t get a napkin.”

“I have some.” Hop offers, having snatched a few from his trip for the Alcremie rolls. “Here.”

“Thanks, kid.” She smiles, wiping her trousers with them.

Hop turns his attention back to the proceedings, but finds he’s lost the thread of conversation.

“—hich is why it won’t be a problem. He’s tough, but I’m tougher.”

There are a personal questions scattered among the ones actually relating to strategy and team-synergy, but Hop soon grows bored of the conversation. It’s one thing to sit around listening to people ask endless questions, another for them to be about his least favorite subject. He ends up sitting back in his chair and finishing off his last Alcremie roll, rolling his eyes when a particularly silly question is asked or whenever the champion gives an appropriately arrogant or entitled response.

At the very least, it helps Hop gather his thoughts and make a few interesting observations.

One, the champion’s image is one that is decidedly arrogant and entitled.

Hop doesn’t know _what_ about that is enticing to the public, but the room seems to jive well with it, either finding it humorous or strangely charming. Hop’s doesn’t find either description fitting, leaning more towards annoying and conceited, but he’s aware his perception of the champion is far different from that of the majority of Galar’s. If the very people who adore him are the ones elevating his every action, it seems only natural for him to behave in a manner that befits all of the praise he receives. And if it's encouraged and lauded, why should there be reason to behave any differently?

Two, the champion is _very_ _good_ at side-stepping questions or answering questions with questions.

This isn’t necessarily surprising. It sounds like the natural result of growing up under a perpetual spotlight. Gillian mentioned how he wasn’t always too good at it, but gradually adapted as the years went on. The effort and practice definitely shows, because not _one_ of his remarks are met with criticism or further scrutiny. He leaves reporters feeling as though he’s answered their questions when it fact, he’s said very little or even nothing at all.

It’s…kinda impressive?Only a little bit.

In a really bizarre and messed up way.

The fact that it’s even necessary in order to keep private details about his life _private_ is appalling, but Hop’s grown weary of treading that particular ethical dilemma, so he decides to save it for another time.

And lastly—

The champion is _very_ charismatic, against all of Hop’s instinct to insist otherwise.It especially shows when he’s speaking about Pokémon battles.

It’s obvious he’s passionate about them. Obvious how he would yammer on and on and on if given the opportunity, to go into further detail about the amount of forethought he places into his strategies without explicitly revealing what they are.Hop’s sure he would understand it better if he knew what on Earth the champion was going on about, but even so, the affection for his craft is readily transparent in every single word that leaves his mouth. His eyes glow bright, his grin is less forced, and the way he gesticulates with his hands, as if he’s already on the pitch calling out commands, has an almost childlike whimsy to it. As if it’s a habit from childhood and not a grown man answering a question for the press.

Hop wonders if he’ll ever be as passionate about something in the same manner. Wonders if _he’ll_ ever be able to talk about anything without getting tired of it, and without a care for what others around him might say about him for it.

He wonders if the champion cares about what _anyone_ says about him.

“One final question.” The chairman announces eventually. The reporters all fling their arms in the air, all speaking over each other in an attempt to be heard.

Unfortunately for them, Rose’s eyes fall on Hop almost instantly, his lips quirking upwards.

“From gentleman in the front, I think.” He says with a wink. “I’m sure you’ve a good one for Champion Leon.”

Hop jolts. On his part, the champion sits up straighter, nodding encouragingly at him, a hopeful ( _so hopeful always so hopeful)_ smile on his face, as if he wasn’t just joking about Hop possibly tearing his career to shreds with a single, mean-spirited comment.

Hop supposes he _could_ do that. _Could_ imply the worst of him and get the room up in arms about discerning the champion’s secret and dark past and have him dethroned in an instant.

Okay, so maybe not anything _that_ extreme, but he could definitely cause an uproar. Cause a bit of damage.

He could.

He doesn’t.

Why would he want to? He may dislike the champion, but ruining what he’s worked towards for over a decade?

Hop could never do that.

 _Maybe_ draw on his face while he’s asleep, but not _ruin_ him.

“What...” The words tumble out of Hop’s lips before he’s aware he’s saying anything. “What’s your favorite part about Pokémon battles?”

And it’s as if Hop’s given him the entire world on a silver platter. A treasure trove full of the finest of jewels. The greatest of presents on a birthday that's arrived early.

The champion’s face lights up brilliantly, his grin nearly cracking his face in two.

“Well, sir—!” He says, throwing that stupidly iconic Charizard hand gesture at him. “Allow me to explain!”

He does.

Hop almost regrets asking in the first place, but for once the champion seems _somewhat_ satisfied with what’s happening around him, so Hop nods and pays attention and tries not to think about how battles almost, maybe, kinda, _sorta_ sound like _not_ the most boring and asinine thing ever. Somewhat.

When the person who’s doing the explaining loves them _,_ that is.


	10. back in business (part iii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all that glitters is not gold

“Is my forehead supposed to look big?”

“Your forehead doesn’t look big. You’re just used to having your fringe in your face.”

“I think it looks big.” Hop frowns at his reflection. The champion’s probably right, but he looks odd all the same. It was amazing what a bit of styling and a ridiculous amount of hair gel and hairspray could do. “Like, _really_ big.”

“No, it _really_ doesn’t.” The champion doesn’t look away from where he’s adjusting his tie. “You’re a very handsome young man.”

“Are you only saying that because we look alike?”

“How much of a narcissist do you take me for?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m being silly. We _both_ have big foreheads.”

“ _Hop_.”

“What? It’s true.”

“My— _Our_ foreheads are of a _normal_ size.” Despite his words, the champion takes a not so discreet glance at himself in the mirror. “They’re _normal_."

“Yeah, yeah.” Hop rolls his eyes. The duality between the facade and reality couldn’t be greater. “Say, don’t you have a team of people paid to dress you up? Shouldn’t they be, I don’t know, making sure you look picture perfect? Not making you do it?

“Usually, that’s true, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate them barging in here. I told them I could handle it. I used to fight them on it more, y’know. Before. When I was just starting out.”

“In the beginning.”

“In the beginning.” The champion repeats, staring at his reflection. “It’s been a while.”

“…You’re good at it.” Hop says, contemplating both of their slicked back hair. He can see why people would mistake them for father and son, their ages aside. “We look decent.”

“Is that a _compliment_ I’m receiving?”

“Don’t ruin it.”

“ _C'mon_.” The champion elbows him. “Give me some credit. Raihan’s not the only one who can pull off a good look.”

“Raihan’s on a completely different level than us.”

“Fair enough.” The champion holds his hand out. “Let me help with your tie.”

“Do I _have_ _to_ wear it?” Hop complains, offering out the restrictive formal wear. “It looks uncomfortable.”

“It’s only for a few hours. Besides, the chairman was kind enough to set you up with the suit. The least you can do is wear all of it.”

“Hm.” Hop stares at the floor. “Where did you learn to tie a tie?”

The champion’s fingers stall for a split second, before continuing their task.

“Who taught me, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“…Dad did.” The champion says quietly, finishing up the Windsor knot. “He used to laugh about it. It was the only knot he could get right.”

“Oh.” Hop nods. He wasn’t expecting that. “Okay.”

The champion hesitates over his next words.

“Did she…ever talk about him? Dad?”

“No.” That’s a lie. Hypocritical of him, but a lie all the same.

She _did_ talk about him. Once. To assure Hop he didn’t _have_ a father. Not a proper one at least.

“Figures.” There’s something odd about the way the champion says it. Hop’s not sure what exactly the emotion behind the response is, but going by the eerily blank expression on his face, it’s obvious it’s not an especially appropriate nor comfortable subject to tread on.

So he changes it.

“Who’s gonna be at this party?” He asks, slipping on the brand new, shiny and pointy dress shoes. They’re uncomfortable as all heck, but apparently, wearing sneakers to a formal gala isn’t exactly conducive to creating a positive image of oneself. “Rich people and…rich _business_ people?”

“Those are usually one and the same.” The champion replies, slipping his own shoes on. “And yeah, basically. They’re going to want to talk to me, so you can do as you like in the mean time.” He stops short. “On second thought, do you _really_ want to go? It’s going to be boring and I don’t want you to be bored.”

“What happened to being your moral support?”

“I don’t feel good about it anymore.”

Hop sighs heavily.

“If I really didn’t want to go, I would say so. It’s not like there’s anything better to do in this room.”

“I could take you to the daycare—“

“I’m _not_ a baby!”

“You’re a _child_.” He says sternly. “And children shouldn’t be stuck at stuffy events.”

“Children _also_ shouldn’t be patronized. They should be given the authority to make their own decisions at a young age to develop their problem-solving skills and promote individualism.”

The champion stares at him.

“Did you read that in a _parenting_ book?”

“Yeah. So?” Hop frowns. “Raihan let me borrow it. His books are really interesting.”

“Why would he have— _never mind_. If you really want to go, I won’t stop you. But if it’s too much—“ He tosses the room’s key card over to Hop. “Just come back up. No need to ask me in advance.”

“Okay.” Hop tucks it away it in his pocket. “Anything else?”

“If anyone asks any uncomfortable questions, ignore them. Find me. I’ll set them straight. And…that should be it. Ready?”

“Not really. Are you?”

“No, but work’s work.”

They make it to the grand ballroom with a minimal amount trouble.

Mostly on account of Hop’s strict instructions to follow _him_ and to not dally around commenting on any pretty decor or artwork or daydreaming themselves down a corridor leading to the other side of the building.

It’s a big room, with tall, marble pillars decorated in golden flower wreathes and vines, glossy floors polished to a pristine shine, the rib-vaulted ceilings showcasing an artistry reminiscent of Galar’s medieval period. Party-goers dressed in expensive and glamorous clothing mingle with one another while a live, stringed orchestra plays. They chat and laugh and whisper, sipping from flutes of sparkly apple juice.

“That’s champagne.” The champion corrects after following his line of sight, eyeing him pointedly. “Do not, I repeat, _do not_ , under any circumstances, drink that.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Hop grumbles, tugging at his collar. “This is really fancy.”

“More like pretentious.” The champion’s grimace speaks volumes for his distaste. “Most of them are sponsors. They like to gather at these things for business. It’s…more than a little toxic.”

“But it’s work.”

“Yeah. _Work_.” The champion sighs and turns to him. “I’d better get to it, then. Find me if anything, all right?”

“Okay.” Hop pauses. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” The champion smiles, saluting him bravely, and enters the room.

As if they’re Sharpedo attuned to the stench of blood, the sponsors and advertisers pounce at the champion’s arrival, crowding and dragging and swallowing Galar’s perfect puppet into their circle of wealth and power.

It sends a familiar gross feeling through Hop, but since he’s not really in any position to barge into the mess and demand they keep their hands to themselves or to not lean in so close or to give the man a little breathing room, he swallows down his indignance and slips away from the ruckus. There’s an ice sculpture on the other side of the room shaped like a Roselia, and he thinks Raihan might appreciate a picture of it.

Also, it’s right next to the food, one of the main reasons Hop tagged along in the first place. He may as well have a look and see if there’s anything worth snacking on.

Just as he’s reaching the ice marvel though, he catches the eye of a familiar face, who smiles and beckons him over with a slight hand wave.

“Mr. Chairman.” Hop greets politely. “Good evening.”

“And a good evening to you as well, son. Is the suit to your liking?”

“Um, yeah?” Hop tugs on the tie. “It’s very nice. I’m not used to wearing them, though.”

“To be honest, I’m not especially fond of them either.” Rose says conspiratorially. “I take it your arrival means your brother is here as well?”

“Yes. He’s…” Hop waves his hand in the general direction of the large crowd assembled on the other side of the hall. “ _Somewhere_ there. They’re pretty vicious, aren’t they?”

“Don’t I know it.” The chairman clicks his tongue. “I should go help him.”

“…Mr. Chairman?”

“Ah! My apologies, Oleana.” Hop blinks at the name as Rose shifts and reveals the person he was speaking with prior to his arrival.“Excuse my rudeness. You see, I simply had to say hello. This young boy is the brother of our champion. His name is Hop.“

“Hop…?” Oleana repeats slowly, her eyes widening with recognition.

“Oli?” Hop says, equally as surprised.

“Oli?” Rose looks at Oleana. “You know this boy?”

“Yes.” Oleana nods, taking a step froward. “He’s a pupil of my sister. A neighbor of sorts.”

“What a pleasant coincidence!” Rose declares, turning to face the mob of people taking up the champion’s time. “Why don’t you two catch up while I go deal with the mess over there?”

With another wave, the chairman leaves.

The both of them stare at his retreating form briefly, before facing one another.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it?” Oleana says, expression as carefully poised as it’s always been.

“It sure has.” Hop responds with a smile. “It’s nice to see you.”

“And you as well. You look very dashing today.”

“You too.” Hop replies earnestly, because she _does_ , dressed in a professional black pantsuit, accented with hints of red, a white lab coat resting upon her shoulder. Her hair is done up into a neat bun, held in place by a classy flower pin. “Sonia said you worked in Wyndon, but I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“I’m the head of research and development at Macros Cosmos.” Oleana explains, glancing around the room with blatant disinterest, even for her standards. “Occasionally, mingling with the masses is a necessary evil. May I ask what you’re doing here?”

“I’m with the champion.”

Oleana’s face remains blank, but Hop can tell she’s thinking his statement over.

“…My condolences.” She murmurs. “I understand things have been rather difficult for you.”

“Thank you. I’m fine. It’s been—I’m _fine_.”

“Sonia and our grandmother have always been fond of you. I’m sure if there’s ever anything you may need, they will be more than happy to offer their help.”

“I know, but really, I’m okay. I wouldn’t want to bother them with anything. I _do_ keep in touch with Sonia, ‘cause she worries a lot. I call her at least once a week.”

“I’m sure she appreciates it.” Oleana pauses, contemplative. “I don’t think I can recall the last time I spoke to her.”

“Oh.” Hop nods. “Maybe you should call her then? When you get the chance.”

“I’m not sure she would appreciate it.”

“Why?”

“We aren’t on the best of terms right now.” Oleana says, eyes downcast. “Our last meeting did not end well.”

“Oh.” Hop frowns. He recalls Oleana dropping by a few months prior to his mother’s passing. Sonia _had_ seemed a bit strange the entire time, and even odder after her sister’s abrupt departure.

 _Business_ , Sonia had cited as the reason, a tight smile on her face. _Always so busy, gran’s superstar Oli._

There’s a reason he and Sonia have always got along so well, Hop is reminded with a hint of bitterness. The shadows cast over them were always too much to hope to ever overcome.

Well, maybe not Sonia. To Hop, she was the smartest and coolest and kindest person ever. Brilliant in every way, even if she couldn’t always see it herself. He couldn't understand why Professor Magnolia was always so harsh with her. Why she couldn’t see Sonia the way he always has.

“Sonia’s the best.” He blurts out unintentionally, cheeks flushing pink the moment he realizes what he’s just said. “Um, I meant—Well, I _do_ mean it but—yeah. She’s the best.”

Oleana considers him.

And _smiles_.

It’s small and microscopic and barely even _there_ , but it’s a smile nonetheless.

“She is.” Oleana agrees, her tone fond. “She’s incredible. I…I wish I could speak to her, as we used to when we were children. She was the only one who ever…understood me, I suppose. And listened to me. I think I was happiest when I was with her.” Her eyes grow hazy. “I never meant to hurt her. I wanted her to be proud. I wanted to make her proud. I...I think I’ve only ever made her angry.”

“I mean, I don’t want to speak for her, but I’m sure she is.” Hop replies. “I think…I think she’s just…trying to figure some stuff out and it’s difficult for her because your nan is being harsh. I know the professor probably means well, but she’s _hurting her_. And I think Sonia just wants the both of you to be proud of her. B-Because the both of you are amazing and smart and she just—she wants to _know_ that she’s amazing and smart too, but she _doesn’t_ and it makes her sad and—“ Hop takes a shaky breath, not sure why he’s getting so riled up, but it’s _Sonia_ of all people and Hop can’t take how much she doesn’t like herself. “She wants to know that you care. A-And that you know she’s doing her best, and that you view her as an equal and not a mess up who’s n-never going to catch up _and_ —”

“Hop, please calm down.

“Sorry.” Hop takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I just…I love Sonia. And I know you do too, but I think she would like it if you called and told her that. Maybe even visited her. And if you could speak to your gran about not pushing her so hard. She’s doing her best.”

“I know she is.” Oleana sighs. “I know she’s always done her best.”

“Tell her that when you call. I know if I was her, it would make me really happy if you told me all those nice things you just said.”

“…I’ll try.” Oleana says. “I’ll let her know. I’ve been meaning to visit home, anyway. Wyndon can be lonely away from your family.”

“It’s pretty far, isn’t it?”

“Too far, but I enjoy my work. I suppose it all comes down to balance.” She mutters to herself, before addressing Hop again. “Thank you, Hop. I’ll take your advice in kind. Perhaps attending this gala was worth it, if only to speak with you again.”

“Hehe, it’s the same for me.” Hop grins. “I only tagged along for the food.”

“The food?” Oleana tilts her head, thin eyebrows furrowing. “To be honest, I’m not sure it’ll be to your tastes. I recall you being fonder of a more homestyle cuisine.”

“Are you calling me a country boy?”

“Yes, because it’s the truth.”

“…I guess I do fancy myself a decent Shepard’s pie every now and again.” Hop concedes. “I’ll try it anyway, but thanks for the heads up.”

“Of course.” She looks over his shoulder. “My presence is required elsewhere it appears. I hope you enjoy the remainder of your time here.”

“Probably not, but same to you.”

“Unlikely, but let us both do our best.”

Hop watches her approach a man with the _strangest_ hairstyle he's ever seen before turning his attention to the Roselia ice sculpture, his original destination.

He takes a quick picture, sends it off to Raihan, and approaches the buffet table.

With all the pretty colors and daintily arranged presentation, there has to be something good to munch on.

Right?

 _Wrong_.

Hop doesn’t know if it’s the frou-frou nature of it all or if the caterers simply had a _very_ bad day, but out of all the finger foods he attempts to convince himself must be as delicious as their appearances suggests, he finds a staggering _two_ hors d’oeuvres he actually likes, and that’s only because they are sweets and he’s never been known to turn down anything with a sprinkle of powdered sugar on it.

Left unsatisfied and disappointed, Hop settles for sulking in a corner and observing the room, trying to keep as out of sight as possible. A rather simple task with a bunch of grown ups who like to stick their noses in the air and refuse to look below eye level at anyone they don’t deem worth their time.

It sounds rude, and Hop feels a little bad about assuming that of anyone without properly knowing them, but what other conclusion is there to make? He thought that perhaps the chairman’s easy going attitude would be shared among the people in his social circle, that maybe they would be as approachable and kind as he is, but that certainly doesn’t appear to be the case. Not with all the snarky bad talk he hears for every person who passes by him after finishing a conversation with someone else.

It’s all so plastic and disingenuous. He can see why Marnie holds such distaste for Wyndon. All the excess and entitlement is certainly laughable in the face of a town that’s struggled to survive as much as she’s told him Spikemuth has.

If this is what wealth and success does to people, he thinks he’d be fine with hiking himself back to the countryside once he’s old enough and settling down in a simple cottage with a few Wooloo for company. Maybe he could buy back the flock his mum reluctantly sold against her own wishes. To honor her in a way, however silly it sounds.

Just when Hop is contemplating recording a few of the downright vapid conversations he’s listening in on to share with Marnie to find a basis for beginning their future upheaval of Wyndon’s unfair and disproportionate class system, his shoulder is tapped.

“Having fun?”

“No.” Hop deadpans. “You said the food would be good.”

“I said it’d be _interesting_.” The champion corrects him, looking throughly worn out. Even his hair is drooping. “Not good. I thought maybe you’d like it. Looks like I was wrong.”

“I skipped out on lunch for this and it was _horrible_.”

“ _I_ skipped out because thinking of coming here made me lose my appetite.” The champion sighs, leaning against the wall next to him. “I wish we were home.”

“I wish the food was good.”

“I wish I could be on personal leave forever.”

“I wish I wasn’t hungry.”

“I wish Hop would forgive me for that.”

“I wish the champion a sleepless night for lying to me.”

“ _Interesting_ was the adjective. Not delicious or good.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ve damaged me irreparably. You will not be forgiven.”

“Not ever?”

“Not as long as my stomach keeps growling.” Hop places a hand on his tummy. He’d be getting a massive headache at this rate. “I think I may pass out.”

“ _What_?” The champion whips around to face him. “Sh-Should we go to the hospital? Do you need water? How many fingers am I holding up?” He shoves three digits into Hop’s face. “T-Tell me! Do you _see_ the _Charizard_?”

“I see someone who’s _overreacting_.” Hop sighs, pushing the hand aside. “I was _joking_ , but I guess it was in bad taste with your nerves.”

“O-Oh. That’s good.” The champion smiles briefly, before it falls again. “I guess this wasn’t exactly the best place to take you.”

“It’s okay.” Hop shrugs. “It’s work.”

“It’s work.” The champion’s lips flatten into a line. He glances over his shoulder, a pensive expression on his face. With a sudden decisiveness, he says his next words with unmatched confidence. “But work’s worth skipping out on every now and then. How about we take off?”

“Take off? Like, leave?”

“Yes.”

“Are you allowed to do that? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“I’m the champion.”

“Are you going to use that to justify all your bad decisions?”

“ _No_ , I’m going to use it to justify all the _good_ ones.” He grins, unclipping one of the pokéballs strapped to his waist. “ _C’mon_. Arthur’s desperate for a night fly, you’re hungry, and I need some air. I think playing hooky is more than warranted.”

It _does_ sound like a good idea. And it’s not as if Hop’s especially happy to stick around.

“C-Can we get burgers and chips?” He asks bashfully. “A-And a shake?”

“How about we double that and get a sundae each?”

“…What’s the quickest way outta here?”

* * *

It takes a bit of maneuvering and sneaking around, but the duo manage to escape the stuffy ballroom with little issue, sticking to the shadows and hiding behind pillars before jumping out the conveniently placed open windows behind heavy curtains and into the, thankfully, rose-less bushes outside.

Their suits get wrinkled and rustled, twigs and leaves imbedded in their hair, but it’s a far better fate than slogging through another few hours of socialite political banter.

The moment they’re free, the champion sends out Arthur and they’re shooting off into the sky. Hop briefly panics when he recalls the lack of a harness, but the cool night air and view of twinkling city lights do away with his concerns.The risks are worth the rewards in certain situations, he decides, holding out his hands while the champion laughs giddily behind them, urging Arthur to go full throttle.

He doesn’t of course, pointedly flicking his tail in Hop’s direction, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Where are we going?” Hop asks when he notices they’ve flown past the same building for the fifth time.

Silence.

“I…actually didn’t think that far ahead?” The champion scratches his head with a frown. “I’m not sure where we can get a good meal, honestly.”

“Haven’t you lived here for years?”

“Well, yeah, but everything’s usually taken care of for me. Living arrangements, clothes, food, _everything_. It’s been a while since I’ve walked around for the sake of it. And it’s not like I’d be very good at it.” He laughs, although it rings a bit hollow. “It’s funny. I’ve lived half my life here and I don’t even know a good place to grab a bite to eat. That’s…pretty pathetic, huh?”

Usually, Hop _would_ agree but…

It doesn't feel right to.

Because rather than feeling smug at the idea that the champion hasn’t found a home in the place he abandoned Postwick for, all it does is evoke a great sense of sadness within him.A tight and painful ball of… _something_ settles within his chest. Pity? Sympathy? Empathy?

Understanding?

Someone not having a home isn’t anything to feel smug about.

It’s _sad_.

“Arthur, land us somewhere discreet.” Hop says, patting the ‘mon on the neck. Arthur inclines his head expectantly. “…Oh. _Sorry_. Please?”

A satisfied puff of smoke leaves his nostrils, the Charizard angling his body for descent. The champion doesn’t react to his sudden request, only speaking once they’re on their feet in a secluded alley.

“Hop…?”

“If you don’t know where to go, that’s where a phone comes in handy.” Hop replies, taking his out to do a quick search. Rotom briefly gives him the stink eye, falling back into electronic sleep. “Greasiest food in Wyndon, about a thousand different results… Best one is a few blocks down, but getting there is the problem with you being… _you_.” His fingers idly tap against his phone case. “…got it. Closest gift shop.” He types the inquiry in. “…All right. I think we can handle this.”

“What do you mean?”

Hop gestures for the champion to crouch down.

He does, albeit confused, jolting when Hop sheds his suit jacket and slings it over his head, tying the sleeves into a neat bow under this chin.

“It’s not much, but it’ll have to work as a disguise.” Hop explains. “There’s a gift shop a few stores down. I reckon we can pick up a few things for you to hide yourself properly, but for now, deal with that and act natural.”

“Because this is a natural look?”

“It’s a Friday night.” Hop shrugs. “Don’t think anyone’s gonna question it.”

“How would you know _anything_ about Friday nights— _Hey_! Wait up!”

The gift shop is thankfully devoid of life.

Maybe tourists aren’t in the mood for shopping for memorabilia so late at night, but as it works in their favor, Hop doesn’t question it too much.

The bell atop the door jingles to announce their presence. The shop owner gives them a critical once over before shrugging and returning to whatever she’s watching on the small television behind the counter.

“I think a hat would be good.” Hop says, glancing around the store. He pointedly ignores any of the merchandise that has the champion’s face printed on it. “Maybe a t-shirt, too. Really _memorable_ stuff.”

“What?” The champion blinks a few times. “… _Oh_. Sure, sure. _Memorable_.”

They pick up a few things.

Hop finds a pack of hair ties with pokéballs on them, an _I_ ❤️ _Wyndon_ novelty t-shirt, and tinted sunglasses with ❤️ _Wyndon Strong_ ❤️ printed on their sides _,_ while the champion comes up with an _I_ ❤️ _Wyndon_ novelty cap and an exact replica of his dumb crown hat.

“For you.” He says with a grin, tossing it into their basket. “For the match.”

“I’m not wearing that.”

“How else will I know you’re cheering for me?”

“I _won’t_ be.”

Hop fights a fruitless battle against the champion’s hurt and devastated expression.

_Stupid Pokémon battles._

“…I’ll _think_ about it.” Hop grits out, refusing to look anywhere but forward.

The jolly steps he hears on their way to the register are enough of a giveaway as to how his response went over.

“Visiting for a wedding?” The cashier questions conversationally as she rings them up. “I see he had a hell of a time.”

“Uh.” Hop glances at the champion poking around a stand of pens. He holds one up, gasping when the liquid within it spills to one side, revealing a Charizard where there was once a Gengar. “Yeah, he did. He’s a, uh, very supportive friend.”

“Don’t tell me the gal he set his eyes on got married off to some other bloke.” The shop owner groans. “We get those types _all the time_ , hollering about how ‘ _she was my girl_ ’ or ‘ _we belong together_.’ Bunch of dipshits is what they are. Nobody belongs to no one. Be happy for the gal, not a bitter jackass.”

“…yes.” Hop replies, because why not make up a fake narrative to go along with the ridiculousness of the situation? “He’s very heartbroken. Too many champagnes. He really loved her, but he’ll get back on his feet. He met a lovely person at the reception, actually. I’ll make sure he calls them tomorrow, when he isn’t vomiting on the sidewalk.”

“Long live young love.”

“Long live.” Hop returns her smile, briefly glancing at the other knickknacks stacked upon the counter. “May I add a few of these to my purchase?”

“Knock yourself out, kid.”

Hop selects two keychains, a magnet, and one of the novelty pens.

After paying for everything, they leave and hide away in another alleyway to make use of their purchases.

“What do you think?” The champion asks when he’s done disguising himself, hair tied up into a bun and stuffed into the tacky tourist hat, t-shirt atop his button-up, his suit jacket over that. The shades perched upon the bridge of his nose pull together the entire ‘ _tourist with a lack of any self-awareness_ ’ ensemble. “Who the heck am I, right?”

“Yeah. Who.” Hop ties his blazer around his waist. “Let’s go eat now.”

* * *

There are only two other people around when they arrive at the diner, one sat at the counter, the other tucked away in a booth nursing a cup of coffee. Soft music plays on the speakers, a lo-fi rendition of some pop song Hop’s heard blare from Raihan’s headphones before.

“I like this song.” The champion says as they plop down into a booth situated in a relatively secluded corner. “It’s a good one.”

“A little generic.”

“Some generic tunes are nice every now and then.” He bops his head along to the beat, shades slipping down his nose. He pushes them back up frantically. “ _Shoot_. Almost blew my cover.”

“Maybe don’t mention it and you won’t?”

“Can’t help it. Sneaking around isn’t usually this fun.” He bounces in his seat giddily, glancing around at all the decor. “Doesn’t it feel like we’re a pair of undercover secret agent brothers about to bust some crime lord? Like, any second our target’ll walk through that door and we’ll have to finagle our way into sneaking into the secret backroom with them? And then we’ll kick the boss in the face and save the entire city from an evil plot to, like, steal Rose Tower or something? Doesn’t that sound _cool_?”

“I guess it does.” Hop has to admit, it _does_ sound pretty awesome, exempting the fact that they aren’t actually undercover secret agents and the only rooms they’ll likely find behind the counter are a freezer and a stocked pantry. “We could have cool code names and stuff.”

“That's— _Yes_. What would yours be?” The champion taps his chin thoughtfully. “How about…Leapin’ Lil’ Man.”

“That’s _lame_.”

“No, it’s not. It suits you. Your name’s Hop and you’re a _lil’ guy_.”

“I’m not _little_.” Hop grumbles. “And isn’t the point of a code name to be undecipherable? They’d know who I was in an instant. Not that I’m a lil’ man. _At all_.”

“That _does_ make sense.” The champion hums thoughtfully. “What about me then? Have a crack at it.”

“A code name, huh.” Hop mumbles, wracking his brain for something appropriate. It would be easy to settle for a childish insult, but since the champion put actual thought into his, it only makes sense to return the favor.

“Dandelion.” He settles on.

“Dandelion?”

“Dandelion.”

“Dandelion.” The champion repeats. He sits back in his seat, fingers drumming against the table. “I was expecting ‘super big meany head’ honestly. Why that?”

“I think it suits you.” Hop replies without elaborating. “And it’s kinda discreet.”

“Leapin’ Lil' Man and Dandelion—“

“—I haven’t agreed to that name—“

“—The perfect duo!” He prattles on anyway. “Let’s go solve some crimes, L squared M!”

“I am _not_ going _anywhere_ without _eating_.”

A waitress arrives to take their order.

She’s got a pleasant look on her face as she scribbles down their requests, but Hop hears a muttered ‘ _fuckin’ tourists_ ’ when she leaves, so he’s probably wrong about her being even remotely happy to be there.

He doesn’t blame her. Working late sounds rough.

Considering there’s barely a soul in sight, their meals arrive relatively quickly. As far as greasy foods go, Hop can attest that _Win Donny’s Diner_ is certainly worthy of ranking first on the list. Add in the affordable prices and cool, Corviknight shaped napkin dispensers, and it’s a place he wouldn’t think twice about stopping by again.

“ _So good_.” The champion says in between voracious bites of his burger. His cheeks are stuffed like a Skwovet. Hop fairs no better, scarfing down his own meal faster than is probably advisable. “This was a great idea. We should do this more often.”

“Sneak out of big money parties?”

“Nah, go out to eat together. I know Raihan’s all in on his chef’s training, but Hammerlocke’s got a lot of nice places from what I remember. I think you’d like them.”

“You thought I’d like the stuff at the hotel.”

The champion winces.

“Let’s overlook that, ‘kay? ‘sides, Rai’s got better suggestions.”

“Yeah, he usually does.”

“I’m glad we can agree on one point.” The champion looks especially pleased by that for whatever reason. “Say, wanna do something else after this? We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Like what?”

“Dunno. Anything that’s open and you’re interested in.”

“…I guess I can looking something up.” Hop’s not in any rush to get back, if he’s being completely honest. They’re likely to get caught if they go back too soon and the party’s not over yet. “Does it matter what I pick?”

“Choose whatever you want.”

“‘kay.” Hop nods, setting his phone on the table to search with the one hand not occupied with his food. “Are you sure you’re not going to get into any trouble for this?”

“I don’t really care.” The champion rather spitefully munches on a handful of chips. “I think they can forgive me the _one time_ I don’t stick around the whole night.”

“What did those people even want?”

“Like I said, they're sponsors and investors. It’s all business talk. Did you know that the only reason the back of my cape looks as stupid as it does is because of them? All those logos? That’s _them_.”

“So you _know_ it looks bad?”

“Of course I do.” The champion gazes at him incredulously. “I wouldn’t be wearing it at all if I didn’t have to. It’s heavy and hot and gets in the way of everything. Who’s idea was it for me to lug around a sixty pound mantle on the pitch of all places? I kept trying to get them to consider a windbreaker or a tracksuit or hoodie or _something else_ , but they insisted the _cape_ was the way to go. _The people love the cape, Leon!_ ” He recites in a mocking fashion, voice high-pitched and nasally. “ _It’s part of your image, Champion Leon! It’s iconic! It’s stately! It’s majestic! Who are you without the cape, Leon?_ ” He takes a particularly frustrated sip of his drink. “What if I don’t _want_ it to be part of my image? What if I’m just as recognizable without it? The _people_ aren’t _stupid_. They can see my face. It’s _everywhere_. They know my team. It’s not like they own _Charizard_ _merch_ or anything. And what do they even _mean_ by who am I without the cape? It’s a piece of _fabric_. It wouldn’t mean _anything_ if they weren’t the ones marketing it that way. It’s not like I feel any different when I wear it. I don’t feel _anything when I wear it_. I don’t even _like it_. And what if—“ His next words are encased with an icy vitriol so uncharacteristic of his usual cheer, it sends an unpleasant chill down Hop’s spine. “What if running around in a cape makes me feel like a massive _prick_ and not a fucking _champion_?”

Hop cannot summon the ability to form words after that.

The… blatant _resentment_ with which the champion speaks of his own title is shocking.

He’s always been under the impression that mostly everything the champion did was voluntary. That he dressed and behaved and did what he wanted _because_ he wanted to. That his face plastered in every magazine and billboard in Galar was by _choice_ , not a dreaded requirement. That the stupid cape was his way of solidifying his position atop Galar’s denizens. Atop of the world and whoever tried to meet him at his level.

A leader. A ruler. A king.

A _champion_.

This. The man seated across from him looking so utterly exhausted and done with everything.

Is _that_ what a champion is? Is this what children from all over dream of and strive for? Heavy circles under their eyes, ridiculous fashion choices, walking around in cheap plastic shades to have a simple meal in privacy and a schedule so hectic it takes the death of a family member to get away from it?

Is _that_ what he chose Wyndon over Postwick for?

Did he know that’s what it would require? Did he figure it out along the way?

Does he regret it?

Maybe Hop really _doesn’t_ know the whole of it. Maybe Hop doesn’t know anything at all.

Maybe…

Maybe he still has a lot to learn about empathy and consideration, after all.

“I’m sorry, Hop.” The champion apologizes after a long stretch of silence. “Didn’t mean to rant at you or swear or…anything. It’s just… _frustrating_.” He laughs hollowly. “I shouldn’t be complaining. It’s just a stupid cape.”

“It’s not just a stupid cape.” Hop replies quietly. “And it isn’t just sometimes, is it?”

“…No, Hop. It’s never been just sometimes.” The champion replies, eerily composed. “Not once.”

Hop considers his response.

“Can we still get those sundaes?” He asks, eventually. “I really want one.”

“Yeah, me too.”

* * *

“So you just…sing along to the words on the screen?”

“Pretty much.” Hop scrolls through the selection of music. There are a few songs that’ve caught his eye, but he wants to see if there’s anything unique to try out.

“What if you’re not good at singing?”

“That’s not the point. The idea is to have fun and not worry that you’re bad at it. Everyone in the room probably sucks as much as you do anyway.”

“Have you been to one of these before?”

“Sonia used to take me to the one in Motostoke every Friday. To celebrate the end of the week. She said it was a good way to relieve stress after all my studying. I always looked forward to it.” Hop smiles to himself. “Once, mum felt good enough to come with us. She was terrible, but I think her confidence made up for it.”

It was one of his favorite memories, his mum on the small stage screeching her lungs out while he and Sonia cheered her on. She always insisted she was the best out of all of them, but Hop thinks they both knew Sonia was the only with an actual shot at landing a record deal. He always hoped she could tag along with them again. One day.

She never did, but he never gave up hope.

Maybe he should have. To spare himself the heartache.

“I’m…sure she had fun with you.” The champion says awkwardly, fiddling with the microphone in his hand. “And Sonia, too.”

“Maybe.” Hop settles on the synth-remix of a fairly recent top-charter. “Wanna go first?”

“H-How about you go first? I’m nervous.”

“About what?” Hop scoffs. “You’re on the telly all the time. You battle in front of millions of people on the daily. What’s so different?”

“I’m not confident in my voice.”

“I _just_ said that’s not the point.” Hop takes a microphone of his own with a sigh. “But _fine_ , I’ll go first.”

“What do I do?”

“Sit there and…I don’t know. Follow along if you want? Clap? Boo me off the stage?”

“Can I take pictures?”

“I really don’t care.”

“So is that a yes or…?”

“ _Yes_.”

Hop doesn’t know why he’s expecting anything less than what he’s given.

The second the song begins and he starts singing, the champion becomes nothing short of a dedicated PTA parent who attends each and every one of their child’s recitals. He hoots and hollers and applauds before it’s even time to give Hop any recognition for his performance. He snaps photos from every angle, records videos with barely comprehensible commentary to go along with them _(“my brother’s so talented I’m crying”_ ) and provides improvisational back up to Hop’s vocals, banging the tambourine he finds lying on the floor against his hand.

Hop doesn’t believe himself to be an easily embarrassed person, but he can’t contain how his cheeks heat at the enthusiasm.

“Please _stop_.” He’s begging by the end, hiding his face in his hands. This was a _horrible_ idea. _Why_ did he suggest it? “I can’t do this.”

“Why? You were great!” The champion says, clapping and tambourine shaking and just _ugh_ — “This is so much fun! Can I try now?”

Hop picks a song out for him and, while he’s at it, fiddles with the strobe light settings, until the room dims and their surroundings are enveloped by pretty neon, multi-colored lights going every which way.

The champion is practically trembling with glee.

“I love this.” He chokes out, clutching the mic to his chest. “Thank you for this wonderful gift, Hop.”

“Just sing the stupid song already.”

* * *

“You’re so _annoying_.”

“I wasn’t _that_ good.”

“ _I wasn’t that good. I’m not confident in my voice_.” Hop mocks in a shrill and raspy tone. “Any other hidden talents I should know about? Skiing? Tap-dancing? Are you Arceus incarnate too?”

“No. Maybe. Probably.”

“I hate you so much.”

The champion laughs in response. It’s a full body one, boisterous and genuine.

The pair are lying on the grassy riverbanks of Wyndon’s artificial bay, their adventure in karaoke having ended in a competitive duet to end all duets.

Competitive on Hop’s part at least. The champion was content enough to sing along with him and take pictures of their performance.

Raihan had been suitably disgruntled when the champion bombarded his phone with photo after photo of their exploits, citing betrayal and a need to be repaid in kind after having the gall to go to karaoke without him, the unofficial king of karaoke. The amount of frowny face and crying emojis littering his responses definitely drove the point home.

Afterwards, they’d stumbled upon the water front on their way back to the Rondelands, the champion suggesting they take a brief rest before returning to the hotel.

The cool night breeze feels refreshing on Hop’s skin after all that singing. His eyes flutter shut, and it’s almost as if he isn’t in a booming metropolis. As if he’s back home counting stars with Sonia or wondering how far he’d need to travel to reach the ends of the universe on the roof of their humble farmhouse.

There’s no sweet wildflower fragrance perfuming the area nor the sound of wild Pokémon skittering about the tall grass, but there’s only so far an illusion can go.

A buzzing sound cuts through the silence. Hop doesn’t initially react, assuming it to be yet another text from Raihan. It’s only when the champion tuts and mutters a few choice words that he cracks an eye open.

“They’re wondering where I am.” He tells Hop, setting the phone beside him. “I’m surprised it took them this long to contact me.”

Hop hums, before a sudden question comes to mind.

“How did they contact you before if you didn’t have a phone?”

“I did have one.”

“What? When we got to Hammerlocke, you said you _didn’t_.”

“I didn’t at the time, but I did before that.”

“What happened to it?”

“...Did you know you can keep the Rotoms from our phones in Pokéballs?”

Hop shakes his head, not sure what that has to do with their conversation.

“Well, you can.” The champion continues, the brim of his hat partially obscuring his face. “I only recently found that out, which is a shame, because it’s a really handy skill, especially when you don’t want to be found.”

Hop lets that information sink in, gears in his head turning as he tries to decipher the rather cryptic and roundabout way the champion is choosing to phrase his answer.

“You lost it on purpose?” Hop says slowly, brows furrowed. “You kept the Rotom but lost the phone?”

“If by lost, you mean purposely dropped it from a height of around fifteen kilometers in the air into a ravine, then yeah. I lost it.”

“Because you didn’t want them—the league people— to find you.”

“That’s the gist of it.” He smiles. There’s no levity to it. “It took so long to get them to agree to let me take personal leave, and yet they kept _calling_ trying to change my mind. I got so fed up with them I just—tossed it. And didn’t look back.”

“Didn’t they know that your mum passed?”

“They did. They just…didn’t care, I guess. Maybe they thought I’d be able to bounce back from it like nothing.”

“Have you?”

“Have _you_?”

“…No.” Hop replies quietly, heart clenching at the mere thought. “How could I?”

“It’s the same for me." He turns his head to look at Hop, a pained smile on his face. “I know you may not believe me, but it is. She was my mum too, you know.”

 _then why did you only show up the day they buried her_ , Hop wants to ask, his chest coiling painfully. _why not earlier? why not a single visit? a call? a letter? why not anything?_

He doesn’t ask any of that. He doesn’t want to have this argument and go in circles and have the champion give him excuse after excuse for his perpetual absence, be it his work or his personal life or whatever the case may be. Hop’s tired of wondering _why_ and whether it was worth it in the end. Whether being the champion warranted leaving everything behind and forgetting all about the family trapped in a town that seemed all too willing to drag them into the depths of its unfeeling wickedness.

“I’m sorry.” He offers condolences instead, because it’s the very least he can do for a brother who was never _really_ a brother, but someone he shared a mother with nonetheless. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” The champion returns in kind. “I’m sorry, Hop. I’m sorry. I really am.”

He says it in such a way that leaves Hop wondering what it is he’s actually apologizing for.

Too exhausted to ponder it more thoroughly, he doesn’t respond, and they fall into silence until it’s time to return to the Rose of the Rondelands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smol brain: write oleana as rose's secretary/vp  
> galaxy brain: write oleana as sonia's sister to have an awesome family of super smart scientist ladies, two of which don't know how to emotion and one who bears the brunt of their deficiencies but who tries her best anyway and is just as talented and amazing as they are but can't see it because she's always being forced into their shadows


	11. back in business (final)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all that glitters is not gold

_went ahead for a few boring work things_

_didn’t want to wake you_

_transferred money into your account_

_get something decent to eat please !!_

_when you’re ready, head to the stadium_

_pass is beside the telly_

_your pal,_

_Leon : )_

Hop stares at the note, wondering why it was necessary for it to be taped to his forehead. Maybe the champ was afraid he wouldn’t find it? Silly, but to be expected of the Charizard man with a penchant for fretting over minor, inconsequential matters. A text could have sufficed, or even a voicemail.

At the very least, Hop learns an interesting tidbit about the man’s writing ability. It’s ridiculously neat and small. Not what one would expect of a big burly bloke with a wild mane of hair and three rowdy dragons, but then, neither are a heavenly singing voice or an oddly accommodating and quirky nature.

Yawning, Hop sets the note aside, picking at the leftover adhesive from his forehead. A quick gander at the time indicates he still has a few hours before the match is slated to begin, meaning he’s got plenty of time to kill. He could watch the telly, read through a few complimentary brochures, wander around the premises, or maybe go see a few sites? Certainly find someplace to eat. The hotel’s food is ridiculously overpriced, and Hop isn’t one to splurge just because he has a few pokédollars to spend.

He _could_ also just stick around sleeping, set an alarm to wake him a decent time before he needs to head off. It sounds appealing enough, but the sky is so clear and the sun as sunny as can be. Wouldn’t it be a waste to stay in?

But napping.

But sunshine.

But _napping_.

Would that make him a bad person? Skipping out on the match entirely to sleep?

Probably. It would _certainly_ be a wasted opportunity. His distaste for battles aside, it’s not everyday one can watch a match live and in person, and he _is_ rather curious to see the champion in action. For all the issues he’s alluded to having with his profession, there has to be a reason he’s stuck it out for an entire decade.

What about battling is enough to warrant dealing with all the uglier parts of the job? What’s so special about sending his team out to maul another trainer’s team that it would bind him so tightly to a position that doesn’t seem to give much in return? It may provide an impalpable amount of wealth and notoriety, but Hop’s observed a distinct lack of personal contentedness.

What was it the chairman said to him? Happiness and fulfillment don’t usually come in pairs? From what he’s gathered, it doesn’t look like the champ has achieved either of those. Although, he _could_ just be lying and making everything up.

It’s a simple and easy conclusion to make, but it’s one that doesn’t sit quite right with Hop. What reason would there be to lie about not being entirely happy with his work? Why showcase any of his ill-feeling towards it?

No, he couldn’t be lying about that. It wouldn’t make sense to.

But if that’s the case, what is keeping him anchored to his stupid title? What is worth everything else that goes along with it?

“Is this how the team on _Galar Rangers 24_ feel whenever they investigate stuff?” Hop questions aloud with a groan, flopping onto his back. He gazes up at the ceiling, his brain a mess of information and conclusions and assumptions. “Stupid Champ. Stupid League. Stupid matches.”

It’s times like these that he wishes his mum were still around. Her answers to his questions were always straight froward and concise, putting aside the few she never answered or simply never brought to his attention. He’s sure she would have some sort of insight into her champion son’s rationale...

...would she have, though? It’s not like she ever spoke about her first born. Asking her just as likely would have resulted in careful sidestepping and waving Hop off with a _don’t worry about it sweetie now finish your veggies so you can have dessert_.

And what about his father? Why was the champ so bothered about her not mentioning him? Was he worth mentioning? His mum certainly never thought so, but why was that? Was he a bad person? Did he hurt her somehow? Why didn’t Hop know a single thing about him?

“Why’s everyone gotta be so secretive?” He grumbles. Maybe it’s another one of those adult things, where they hide important information for the greater good. Hop doesn’t think there’s any greater good in keeping details of his own family from him, but what does he know?

Oh right. _Not much_.

Reluctantly swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he wills himself to prepare for a long day of loitering and wasting time around the capital city. There’s no point lying in, driving himself nuts over a mystery he won’t be getting any closer to solving in a fancy hotel room.

Hop tidies the room up the best he can to save the cleaning service some of the trouble, showers, and dresses himself.He’s in the process of packing all his things, double and triple checking to ensure he has everything, when a glint of red and white catches his eye.His brows furrow. He pushes aside his clothing, fingers brushing against what seems to be a…pokéball?

Grabbing it, he turns it around in his hands, taking in all the chips and dents and wondering what on _Earth_ it would be doing in his bag of all places. Did he take it by mistake? He could have sworn he didn’t see it any of the times he opened his bag before.

Out of curiosity, he clicks the release, not actually expecting anything to be in it.

He’s wrong, of course. As per usual.

Red light explodes from it, revealing none other than _Mordred_.

“Arceus, _no_.” Hop wheezes. She glances around the room, as confused as he is.

Why wouldn’t she be? She’s supposed to be warming up or whatever with her _trainer_ for their internationally viewed live _match_.

“How did you—What are you—You’re _not_ supposed to be here.” Hop stammers, scrambling for his phone. “I-I need to call someone. This is terrible, isn’t it? You have a _match_ today.”

Isn't this bad?

Like, really, _really_ bad? The battle isn't until evening and it's only early afternoon, but Hop doesn't know what Pokémon are supposed to do before battles! What if Mordred needs to participate in a super secret training regiment that's critical to her success on the pitch? What if she loses against her opponent because she was stuck in Hop’s bag the entire morning and not doing important things like preparing for battle? He doesn't want her to lose!

Granted, he doesn't want Mordred to battle either, but if it's going to happen, he would rather she _win_.

On her part, Mordred doesn’t look all that concerned. She yawns, making that odd clicking noise with her beak that always sends shudders up and down Hop’s spine. It’s the equivalent of nails scraping against a chalkboard kinda discomforting.

“I’m gonna call him, okay? E-Everything’s going to be fine.” It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself of that, but Mordred humors him with a grunt. She stretches her limbs while Hop hopes with all his power the champion will answer his phone on the first attempt, and hasn’t spontaneously decided to chuck it into a ravine like his old one.

He thankfully picks up after three rings.

“Hello?”

“You are the most _irresponsible_ person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. How _dare_ _you_ do this? How _dare_ _you_ disrespect her like this? You’ve got a lot of nerve answering the phone, you inconsiderate _dunce_.”

“Hop!” Is the cheerful response he receives in return. “Good afternoon! What’s up?”

“ _Mordred_.” Hop enunciates, gritting his teeth. “Is with _me_. Do you not understand how that’s an issue?”

“Oh, I know.”

That takes the wind out of Hop’s sails.

“…You do?”

“Sure. I left her on purpose. I thought you could use some company.”

“She has a battle today!”

“I _know_.” The champion says slowly. “But I didn’t want you to be lonely. _And_ I wanted someone really good at protecting, and since Mordred’s _super_ protective, I felt it only made sense to leave the job of babysit—I mean— _keeping an eye on you,_ to her.”

“I don’t need babysitting!” Hop complains. “Did you even ask her about this?”

“I didn’t think she’d mind. She loves you.”

“That’s irrelevant.” Hop fires back, deftly avoiding Mordred’s tusks as she tugs him close, nuzzling his hair. “Doesn’t she need to—I don’t know—prepare for everything?”

“Eh, not really. Tiring her out before a match is asking to lose, and I’m a _really_ bad loser. Some walking around the city shouldn't be all that draining on her.”

“So it’s fine?”

“Yup.”

A beat of silence passes between them.

“That wasn’t the only reason.” Hop says, not bothering to conceal his suspicion. “You have an ulterior motive.”

“What? That’s _silly_. Of course I don’t.” Hop can _hear_ the unapologetic grin stretching itself across the champion’s face. “I mean, if by _chance_ , Mordred _happens_ to be an important member of my team and also necessary for the match to begin in the first place, and you _just so happen_ to have her, then it would be _imperative_ for you to deliver her to Wyndon Stadium where I hope you’ll show up to watch me battle so that I may demonstrate how competent a trainer I am, then that would just be a massive coincidence and in no way influenced by my personal feelings.”

Hop gapes.

“Y-You’re a—a—“ He struggles to find the proper words to encapsulate his outrage. “—a total _sneak!_ You just want me to show up wearing your stupid hat! Mordred isn’t here for my protection at all!”

“Yes, she is. Your safety is my top priority.” The champion insists firmly, before his tone becomes more sheepish. “But I also really want you to come and I thought you may not show up at all, and I didn’t want that, so I left her with you. Forgive me?”

“No way!” Hop scowls, trying not to be impressed by how spot on the champion’s intuition is. “And just see if I bring her at all! Watch! You’re going to be down one Pokémon and _lose_ because you’re a big, stupid, dummy, _meany head_!”

“Hop—“

He cuts the call before the champion can finish his statement.

“Let’s go have some fun!” Hop declares aggressively, tugging his bag on. “And forget about that dummy!”

The distant thought of Mordred becoming enraged enough to run him though with one of her tusks for belittling her trainer briefly crosses Hop’s mind, but thankfully, she takes no offense. Instead, she lets out an enthusiastic cry and follows him out onto the streets.

* * *

After grabbing a bite to eat at a Pokémon friendly café and feeding his gleeful companion by hand, Hop settles for asking Mordred what _she_ wants to do, since she’s not really with him by her own will, but rather by the whims of her childish trainer.

The problem is, Mordred’s interests stray more towards combat or bickering with Arthur or both, and as neither are viable options, she seems at a loss of what to suggest.

“I guess we could just wander around and see what we find.” He _could_ look something up, but isn’t part of a city adventure to go where the road leads and make unexpected discoveries? He thinks his mum would appreciate that kind of sentiment. “What do you think?”

Mordred nods, her tail swinging from side to side.

And so the pair take off into the streets of Wyndon.

The first thing Hop notices is that it’s much different to walk around the city at night than during the day.

The streets are overflowing with residents, tourists, and league employees alike, bustling about, making the best of a sunny day while excitedly anticipating the main event set for evening. Store fronts display their merchandise for all to see, customers zooming in and out of shops, lugging around bags upon bags of purchases.

It’s exactly what Hop pictures when he thinks big city, which is kinda funny to think about when he recalls that Wyndon was constructed with that purpose in mind, rather than being an incidental result of migrating populations and industry.

Hop is watching an automated trash collector pick up the remains of a plastic bag when he realizes Mordred is no longer beside him. He doubles back and finds her a few storefronts back, staring into a boutique.

“Find something nice?” He questions, turning his attention to the displays. Three large, fuzzy pink stands showcasing an assortment of accessories stare back at them, rotating in slow intervals. Glitter, cotton, and frilly lace cover their bases.

Mordred stares longingly at them, one claw coming up to poke at the glass. Hop gently guides it away, as Haxorus claws are sharp and he doesn’t want to pay for any damages.

“They’re cute.” He comments, inclining his head. “Do you want one?”

Mordred huffs, a low growl escaping her throat. She makes an odd expression, eyes rounding out, arms curving oddly. Hop is confused at to what she wants to communicate initially, but after a second, it clicks.

“Dee?” He guesses. “What about her?”

The Haxorus points at the accessories, does her Goodra impression again, and points to herself.

“You think…they suit her better?” A nod. “And you don’t think they suit you?” Another nod. “I don’t think that’s true at all. Dee’s cute, but so are you.”

Mordred glares. Hop pouts.

“I’m being serious! Everyone’s cute in their own way.” Hop starts listing off her friends with his fingers. “Dee’s cute ‘cause she’s a goof and lazy and a crybaby. Lulu’s cute ‘cause he’s super sweet and polite and never causes trouble. Flo is naughty and needy and _always_ causes trouble. Galahad’s a sleepy head who loves his babies and is super smart, Arthur—“ She scoffs at that, earning a laugh from him. “ _C’mon_ , be nice. He’s definitely cute. He’s super serious and level-headed but would probably just lay around asking for belly rubs if he could. And _you_ —“ Hop points at her. “—are cute ‘cause you’re tough, strong, brave and cool, but really nice and gentle, too. And I think that if you want to wear a bow or a ribbon, you should, because you’re the cutest Haxorus in the entire world and they’d make you look even cuter.”

Mordred stares at him. Hop is almost led to believe that she’s not understood a word he’s said.

This isn’t the case. She proceeds to usher him towards the door frantically, eager to take a look at all the frilly accessories awaiting her.

They spend a considerable amount of time browsing and trying out various looks. Hop’s always been pretty good at tying ribbons, so it isn’t a hassle at all to help Mordred get them on.

He, of course, avoids the tusks for obvious reasons, but when her disappointed looks become too much to bear, he decides to ask for help.

“Excuse me?” He says as he walks up to the register. “Would you happen to have anything that’s more durable?”

“Durable?” The woman behind the counter repeats, tilting her head. She glances at Mordred behind him, her lips forming an ‘o’, and smiles. “ _Ah_ , I see. Hold on a moment.” She walks into the backroom, returning with a box a few minutes later. “I think we have just the thing.”

“Really?” Hop watches as she opens it to reveal large rolls of a rather odd looking material, all different colors. It looks like silk, but upon further inspection, shines oddly in the light, giving it an almost industrial appearance. “What’s this?”

“It’s specially made silk.” She explains, holding up a roll for Hop to examine. “From the same material they use for dynamax bands. We have a few Bewear at home who don’t know their own strength, so my husband and I developed it. Indestructible, but soft as fabric.” She sighs forlornly. “There’s not much demand for it since most of our customers are Eevee, Minccino, or smaller Pokémon owners, but I keep them in the back just in case.”

“Wow! That’s perfect. She wants them on her tusks. May we purchase them?”

“Of course, dear. How many and which colors did you have in mind?”

“How about two of each? No, _three._ Actually, let’s have _ten_.” Hop waves his phone around, a sly grin on his face. “I received a generous deposit into my account today, after all.”

Mordred practically _glows._

They leave the store a bag heavier, but in high spirits.

Mordred walks alongside him proudly, ribbons swaying in the wind from her tusks, arms and tail. Even Hop has his own, albeit less noticeable from where it’s tied around his wrist, an alternating pattern of orange and purple. It gets them a few odd looks from people as they pass by, but Hop doesn’t pay it any mind.

Mordred is happy, and that’s all he really cares about.

They spend the rest of the day in a similar fashion, window shopping and dropping by stores whenever anything catches their interest. They don’t end up buying anything else, although Hop does delight in taking tons of pictures. He’s nowhere near the expert Raihan is at capturing a scene, but Hop thinks he's done a decent job snapping photos of he and Mordred in front of various famous landmarks, including the famed Corviknight statue, his favorite of the bunch.

It’s a fun time all around, even if they _are_ turned away from the Galar Hurricane for safety reasons. Mordred is especially angry about that, but Hop quickly guides her away from the terrified employee who’s only doing his job before things can get confrontational.

Soon though, time catches up with him, and it is with a heavy heart that Hop informs Mordred they should probably head to Wyndon Stadium if she’s to unleash the jittery energy that’s been building up inside her the whole day.

“Are you really that excited for it?” Hop asks, genuinely curious for the answer. He hasn’t seen much of the Haxorus on the battlefield besides stealing a few glimpses of the champion’s training sessions in Hammerlocke. He knows she enjoys it more or less. That the reason Arthur and Galahad always return so spent from said training sessions is primarily her fault. Still, it puzzles him all the same.

Mordred grunts, flexing her claws, her impatient gait answer enough. She’s gazing at the stadium in the distance with anticipation, her tail rocking back and forth fervently.

Yeah, she’s _definitely_ looking forward to taking some names.

They make it to the rose shaped structure with time to spare. It’s packed with people, all chattering excitedly amongst each other, wearing those Arceus-forsaken champion caps proudly. Several staff members line the entry gates, standing firmly as they observe the proceedings. On the far wall is an elevator. It’s restricted from the looks of the keypad beside it.

But what really grabs Hop’s attention is the human Pokéball standing off to the right. He’s taking pictures with fans, signing autographs, and overall being incredibly pleasant.

Hop likes them instantly, even if he doesn’t understand them.

The queue moves at an efficient pace, but Hop’s nerves start to get the better of him when he notices they’re cutting it a bit close.

“Hello, sir, and welcome to Wyndon Stadium.” The staff member behind the counter greets when they arrive at the front. “How may I help you?”

“Um, we’d like to to enter the stadium?” Hop says, unsure of how to go about explaining himself. He can’t just say, ‘ _yeah I’m sorta related to the champ so let me in before he throws a tantrum about me not showing up._ ’ “I have a pass.”

“Great! May I see it?”

Hop digs around his pockets.

He comes up empty.

“Huh?” He blinks, checking one more time. A cold sweat begins to break out across his skin, a foreboding feeling of dread settling itself upon him. He takes his bag off, hands trembling, rifling through the contents frantically, a stream of _‘no no no no no no’s_ running through his head as his own error slaps him right in the face.

 _Pass is beside the telly,_ the champion’s note had said. Hop read it, double and triple checked all of his belongings, and then the call and he’d been annoyed and indignant and—

_He forgot the pass beside the telly._

Zipping his bag shut, he throws it over his shoulder and faces the staff member again.

“I, um, forgot it.” Hop tells him quietly, cheeks flushed with shame. What right did he have to lecture anybody about responsibility when he forgot the _one thing_ he was supposed to remember?

“If that's the case, I’m afraid I can’t grant you entrance.” The man informs him evenly. “And unfortunately, the venue is sold out. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“B-But sir!” Hop places his hands on the counter, desperation seeping into his tone. “I need to get in! The champion is—He’s—“ Lowering his voice, he leans forwards and utters the shameful and forbidden words— “He’s my _brother_.”

Naturally, the guy doesn’t believe him.

“Listen kid.” He starts, lowering his glasses to gaze at Hop sternly. “If you think that’s the first time I’ve heard it, you’re mistaken. By that measure, the champ’s got _thousands_ of brothers running around this city. I know you wanna watch the champion. I get it. I really do. But rules are rules. I can’t let you in if you don’t have a ticket.”

“But his _Haxorus_!” Hop points to Mordred beside him, the only ace left up his sleeve. “She’s _here_. She needs to be in _there._ With _him_.”

“Champion's not the only guy with a Haxorus, kid. They're rare, but not impossible to get. I've heard it before.” The guy frowns. “Listen, if you don’t leave, I’m going to have you escorted off the premises. I don’t want to do that, because I know you’re a good kid, but if I have to, I _will_.”

Hop can’t believe this. He can’t believe he was stupid enough to leave the stupid pass behind in the stupid hotel room because he was so worked up about the stupid champion and now Mordred won’t be able to fight in the stupid match.

And he can’t even rush back to the Rondelands! There’s no time! He doesn’t want to be the reason an internationally viewed match gets delayed!

But what else can he do?

“…You’re right, sir.” Hop concedes with a heavy, remorseful sigh. “It was wrong of me to do this, not to mention incredibly disrespectful to the people who purchased their tickets through legitimate means. And of course, to you as well. I should have known better than to waste your time and try to pull the wool over your eyes. The staff of Wyndon Stadium deserve a lot more respect than that for all the hard work they put into running this place. I’m really sorry, sir.”

“Oh, uh, it’s fine.” The man is clearly surprised by his apology. “As long as you learned a lesson from this. We’d be happy to have you next time, with a proper ticket in hand.”

“Of course. I’ve learned an important lesson today. Thank you for helping me become a better person. C’mon, girl. Back in your pokéball.”

Mordred growls, anger clear as day in her eyes, but Hop’s imploring expression seems to get through to her. It takes a moment, but she consents, and disappears into the capsule.

“Sorry for the trouble.” Hop says with a smile. “We’re going to go home and watch the match on the telly, like _proper_ law-abiding citizens.”

“Good on you. I hope it’s an equally as enjoyable experience.”

“Me too. Thank you for your time.” Hop exits the line, walking to the left. There’s visibly less security presence there.

“Um, kid?” The guy says, pointing forward. “Exit’s that way.”

“I know.” Hop replies, stopping in front of the ticket gates. “Say, wanna hear a joke? This one always kills back home.”

The staff member stares at him, unresponsive. Hop carries onward regardless.

“What’d the psychic type Pokémon say to the overworked employee?”

“Uh…?”

“C’mon, play along.”

“Okay, um, what did they say?”

Hop grins.

“ _Psych_.” He blows a raspberry for good measure and vaults the gates, speeding past the shocked security team. Honestly, what use were they if they couldn’t stop a ten year old from breaching their lines?

“Hey! Get back here!”

“Sorry!” Hop waves over his shoulder, not slowing down for an instant. He may be a bookworm at heart, but he was still a boy born and raised in the middle of nowhere. Sprinting long distances was easy as pie when he’d been through worst. Running from a few built guys was nothing compared to unintentionally disturbing a Combee nest.

Cute honey gatherers they were _not_ , especially when their Vespiquen called for vengeance.

Hop dashes through the halls, swiftly avoiding bumping into other match attendees, trying his best to cause confusion within the crowd.

He’s really done it now, but there’s no time to consider the consequences of his actions. Mordred needs to get to the champion, and if the universe has decided to conspire against him the _one time_ he needs to be recognized as his sibling, Hop will do everything he can to spite it.

“‘scuse me!” Hop narrowly misses toppling over two women dressed in deep, navy blue shirts. Something about the design seems familiar, but he doesn’t have time to think when there are people screaming for him to stop and threatening to call the authorities.

The end of the hall finally opens to the venue. He’s greeted with thousands upon thousands of seats, filling up quick for every moment that passes by. It’s actually a pretty amazing sight, one he wishes he could take in more if it weren’t for his fear of imminent capture.

There’s no time for a running start, but that suits him just fine.

Hop leaps from his place at the top of the stairs, landing on the next level, doing the same for the next and the next until he reaches the first aisle.

“Nowhere else to run!” The closest security officer yells after him, getting closer and closer.

 _Now that’s just plain incorrect_ , Hop thinks, bracing his hands in front of him.

Of course there’s still somewhere to go.

It’s _down_.

Climbing over the barrier, he offers a cheeky peace sign to his dumbfounded pursuers and plummets onto the turf.

This fall is less forgiving, and leaves his bones quaking, his teeth gritting against the force of the impact. He’s not sure of the precise height of the drop, but his ankles complain as much as they did when he would do the same from his bedroom window. Maybe those midnight escapades into the Weald weren’t as pointless as they seemed.

Shaking off the urge to limp, Hop follows the sideline into an accursedly long tunnel.

He’s wheezing at this point, his legs about to give in, but the sound of rapid footsteps closing in drive him forward. He needs to keep going. He needs to find the champion. He’s caused too much of a ruckus to fail _now_.

But there are so many doors, and not all of them are labeled, and for all he knows the champion is on the _other_ side of the stadium and he’s wasted his time coming this way and sweet _heavens_ is it getting harder to breath and run at the same time he should really try to be more active maybe being a bookworm has its pitfalls—

A door a little ways ahead of him suddenly opens.

Hop shrieks, arms instinctively rising to shield his face. He stumbles and trips from the panic, undoubtably about to meet his untimely demise on Wyndon Stadium’s shiny yet deadly floors.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he slams into a solid, yet not quite immovable object. A squeaks escapes him as he bounces backward from the impact, but two hands grab his shoulders before he can fall, steadying him.

“…Hop?” A familiar, friendly voice reaches his ears, laced with shock and confusion. “What are you doing here?”

It takes him a second to realize who it is.

“Raihan?”

“That’s me.”

“Raihan!” Hop practically sobs, legs finally giving in. It doesn’t matter. His savior catches him, supporting him with ease. “I-I’m so happy to see you!”

“I’m happy to see you too, kiddo. Been a while. But what’s going on?“

And that’s where panic sets in again. A friendly face or not, it doesn’t change what he’s done. Dreads creeps up on Hop, the terrifying thought of Raihan instantly labeling him some sort of petty criminal and tossing him over to be apprehended and jailed suddenly too real a possibility for him to handle.

“ _Freeze_!” Security finally catches up to him, panting, but not nearly as winded as Hop.

“I-I didn’t mean to!” Hop stammers in his own defense, adrenaline giving way to terror. He can hardly believe his own recklessness! How much trouble could he get into for this? “R-Raihan, I didn’t mean—I was just—And the gates were there and Mordred and—“ Voice cracking, Hop buries his face into Raihan’s hoodie in a fruitless attempt to hide from his own shame. He deserves whatever punishment awaits him. “I’m _s-sorry_. I’m so _sorry_ , _Raihan_.”

However, instead of tossing him over for his rightful comeuppance, Raihan only hugs him closer, angling Hop away from his pursuers, his usually easy going countenance twisting into something far less amicable.

“One of you—“ He starts off deceptively calm, speaking at the security guards. “—better give me a good explanation for this.” His next words are snarled, his teeth bared threateningly. “Before I get _real_ _fuckin_ ’ _angry_.”

“That child forced his way through the ticket gates.” The bravest one of the bunch offers up, the rest cowering at the dragon master’s barely reigned in rage. “And refused to listen to repeated attempts to get him to exit the premises. We’ve chased him all the way down here. Can you believe he leapt from the _stands_?” The man exclaims, unaffected by the tenseness permeating the conflict. “I’m surprised he was able to run as far as he did. We’ll probably stop by the medics before taking him to the station, just in case he’s got a shattered ankle or two.”

Raihan allows everything he’s just been told to sink in.

“Hop.” He speaks softly, gently, nothing like the ice cold venom directed at the group of men. “Is that true?”

“ _Yes_.” He admits, his answer muffled against Raihan’s hoodie. He looks up at him, trying to contain his embarrassment. “B-But I only did it ‘cause I needed to get to the champion!”

“I knew it!” One of the men yells. He’s immediately silenced with a deadly glare from Raihan.

“…Why’d you need to get to him?” Raihan asks, his smile encouraging and kind. “You have a good reason, right?”

“Of course I do!” Hop takes the pokéball out of his pocket. “I’ve got Mordred with me! I was hanging out with her the entire day! The champ said to deliver her once it was time for the match to start but I forgot my pass at the hotel beside the telly and didn’t notice until I was already at the counter! And then the guy was like ‘ _sorry can’t let you through without a ticket_ ’ and I said ‘ _but I’m the champ’s brother! I have his haxorus_ ’ and the guy was like ‘ _i’ve heard that story before.’_ I guess kids try to sneak in that way all the time? I don’t know. But I didn’t know what to _do_! There wasn’t time to go back and get it without delaying the match and there’s no signal here so I couldn’t just call him. I didn’t want to make a scene and I panicked and may have been a little rude and tricked the guy and jumped past the gates and ran all the way here to try and find him but I found you instead and I’m really, _really_ sorry about all this.” Hop rambles out. “I don’t want to go to jail! I just want to Mordred to battle and have fun!”

“It’s all right, sweet pea.” Raihan soothes him, ruffling his hair. “You’re not going to jail.”

“I’m not?”

“He’s not?”

“Of course not.” Raihan scoffs, throwing an arm over Hop’s shoulder. “Not sure what’s not obvious about it, but he _is_ the champ’s brother, as confirmed by the Great Raihan himself. Andif you don’t mind, I’m going to bring him over to his gracious kingliness and you’re going to forget any of this happened. Let bygones be bygones. Or else—“ Raihan’s pupils turn into near slits, a threatening smile spreading across his face. “We’re going to have a problem.”

“Well, if it’s you saying so…fine.” The security guy gives Hop one last admonishing look. “But don’t do that again, kid. It’s dangerous! Not to mention exhausting. My cardio regiment definitely needs some work!” He turns around and walks off, the rest of the group scrambling to follow behind him.

“I’m sorry.” Hop says again, once they’re gone. “I didn’t want to make a scene, but I think I made one anyway.”

“I’ll say.” Raihan laughs, pinching his cheek. “No more causing a ruckus in high security stadiums for you, all right?”

“S’not so high security if _I_ got through, is it?” Hop grumbles. He whines when Raihan pinches his other cheek as retribution. “Okay! _Okay_! No more. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“What are you doing here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be back in Hammerlocke?”

“I’m hurt that you didn’t notice my face on all the LED screens.” Raihan holds a hand over his heart, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye. “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”

“I…wasn’t really paying attention?”

“Didn’t you see everyone wearing all the dragon-gym merch?”

“…Oh. Oh _yeah_. I thought they looked familiar.” Hop nods. So _Raihan_ would be the one to take on the champion. “I was running too fast to get a good look at them.”

“You are somethin’ else.” Raihan shakes his head in disbelief. “Good on Lee for having such a loyal lil’ bro.”

“I didn’t do it for him. I did it for _Mordred_.”

“Of course, of course. My bad. Now, before we go find ‘im—“ Raihan grins mischievously. “How about we give the champ the shock of a century?”

* * *

“Hop!” The champion exclaims the moment they walk into his…lounge? It’s definitely much more than a simple locker room. “You’re here! It’s so late and you weren’t showing up and I was so worried and—“ He stops short, gleeful demeanor replaced with one of complete misery. “…I cannot believe this.”

“Believe what?” Hop asks nonchalantly.

Beside him, Raihan smirks.

“Cool, innit?” He snickers, arms folded behind his head. “Kid’s favorite color _is_ orange after all.”

“My own flesh and blood—“ The champ’s voice breaks. He rounds on Raihan, golden eyes piercing straight through him. “How _could_ you?”

“Oh, I could. And I _did_. Doesn’t he look cute as a button?”

“He looks like a _traitor_.”

“Nah, I’d say he looks like a _winner_.”

“ _Hop_.” The champion crouches so they are at eye level. “Tell me he’s joking. Say it ain’t _so_.”

“Long live Hammerlocke.” Hop deadpans, bringing his hands up to imitate Raihan’s iconic dragon claws. “Down with Wyndon.”

Raihan bursts out laughing.

The champion collapses onto the floor, proceeding to curl up into a ball.

.

.

.

“Did you at least bring the cap?” The champion asks once he’s done being melodramatic. He grimaces at every occasional chuckle from Raihan, but otherwise, regains his composure. “Please tell me you brought the cap.”

Hop rolls his eyes and takes the stupid thing out of his bag. With great reluctance, he places it atop his head. He’s sure he looks like an incredibly indecisive fan, wearing it along with the dragon-gym jersey Raihan had bestowed upon him. Why is he doing this again?

“Thank you so much.” The champion chokes out, his entire _being_ as radiant as the sun. Even his hair looks shiny and glittery. “It means a lot.”

Oh, right.

 _That’s_ why.

“Yeah, well, if it gets you to stop _whingeing_.” Hop sighs heavily. “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me you were facing each other?”

"Didn't you hear it at the press conference?" The champion frowns. "I said his name."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Hop shrugs. "Guess I didn't hear it."

“Probably for the best.” Raihan says, lounging on the plushy sofa afforded to the champions personal quarters. “T'was a nice surprise for you, right?”

“Sure was. You saved me. I’d probably be at the station right now.”

“No way you'd be. The Great Raihan strikes fear into the hearts of any and all who dare mess with his hatchlings.”

“What’s this about a station?” The champion glances between them, confused.

“ _Nothing_.” They respond simultaneously.

“Don’t you feel weird about battling each other?” Hop inquires. “Doesn’t being friends make it weird?”

“I think it makes it a hundred times more fun.” Raihan tells him, not looking especially bothered by the thought of it. “I know Lee like the back of my hand, but that means he knows me just as well. Adds another layer to the mind game aspect of things, y’know?”

“We’re always waiting to take advantage of each other’s weaknesses.” The champion adds. “It usually comes down to who chokes first.” He smirks, and it’s so _cheeky_ even Hop finds himself annoyed by it, despite it not being directed at him. “As it happens, it’s always him.”

“Don’t be too proud of yourself, ya tosser.” Raihan scowls. “I’m gonna kick your ass today and Hop’s gonna call me cool and you’re gonna be sad about it.”

“Sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t hear you over my ten _-nil_ win streak.”

“You _as_ —“

“Champion Leon?” A knock at the door interrupts their smack talk. A female staff member pokes her head in. “The match is about to begin. Would you happen to know where—“ Her gaze falls upon Raihan. In a rather unsurprised tone, she speaks into her headset. “Got him. He’s here. Please proceed to your respective wait points when you’re ready.”

“One moment, please.” The champion calls out, stopping her. He gestures at Hop. “Would it be possible for you to escort him to the chairman’s box? He has clearance.”

“Of course, sir.” She raises an eyebrow. “I take it he’s the reason the comms were a mess earlier?”

“What?“

“ _Wow_ , would you look at the time!” Raihan interrupts, ushering Hop to his feet and guiding him towards the door. “We’d all best be on our way. Wouldn’t want to keep anyone waiting!”

“Watch me, okay?” The champion calls after Hop. “I’ll show you _exactly_ why I’m at the top!”

“I’ll make sure to cheer for Raihan.” Hop responds petulantly, before pausing. “Oh my _—_ _Mordred_.”

He rushes back and hands the pokéball over. He can’t believe he almost forgot after all the trouble of getting her here!

“Thanks.” The champion smiles graciously. “I’ll make sure she shines.”

“You better.” Hop demands, placing his hands on his hips. “She’s the toughest and prettiest Haxorus of ‘em all. Don’t let her down.”

“You got it.”

* * *

“You seem nervous.”

“I’m not.” Hop denies nervously. “I’m not. I’m not nervous.”

“That sounds like something someone who’s _very_ nervous would say.” The chairman’s laughter lacks any real malice.

After an exciting opening ceremony full of music and fireworks and, in Hop’s opinion, very premature confetti, Rose had joined him in the private box overlooking the pitch. Now, they were awaiting the moment both competitors would appear from their respective sides of the field, to clash like the battle giants Galar hailed them to be.

“It’s a lot…different. I _know_ them and—it’s strange.” Hop can’t really put the feeling into words. He wasn’t planning on rooting for either one, his words to the champion meant as a joke, but now that he’s here, wearing their merch and watching their flashy introduction clips on the huge jumbotrons, he’s weirdly uncomfortable.

If anything, he’s _dreading_ the start of the battle.

“That’s only natural. You’d prefer neither have to lose, no?”

“I guess?” Hop’s lips flatten into a line. “I don’t know. It’s weird. I want to go home.”

The chairman only laughs some more.

“ _Relax_ , son. Leon and Raihan are professionals. They’re capable of setting their personal feelings aside.”

“ _I’m_ not.” Hop grips his seat. “How can this _not_ be personal?”

“That’s the name of the game.” Rose tells him, twirling a lock of his hair around his finger. “There is always a loser.”

 _Sounds like a crummy game_ , Hop thinks. He knows that’s the case with anything remotely competitive in nature, that where there’s a winner there’s a loser, whether it’s tic-tac-toe or a showdown on the battlefield, but why does that mean one side needs to feel the sting of defeat?

It’s not fair, as much as it is.

The stadium lights dim.

The audience is flooded in a sea of darkness as two spotlights appear on either side of the stadium.

On one end, the challenger. On the other, the reigning champion.

The former ambles towards the center, RotomPhone snapping pictures of him as he plays it up for the audience. The latter walks with firm steps, looking all a ruler should. Like someone worthy of the cloak draped across his back.

Hop swallows thickly, tugging the brim of his cap down. He can’t watch, but he can’t bring himself to peel his eyes away from the tense scene.

They stop at the center and turn towards one another.

Raihan looks completely unbothered, a lazy smile on his face.

The champion is the complete opposite, radiating an air of severity.

“Yo champ.” Raihan greets, his voice reverberating throughout the stadium. “A real pleasure to face ya again. Gotta say, this stadium o’ yers gets prettier and prettier each time I visit.”

The champion says nothing, as if he’s waiting for Raihan to finish.Hop wonders if this is scripted. If it is, they’re doing a fine job with their acting. The pressure’s intense enough to cut with a knife. If not, then he wonders how they’re managing to stay so calm. He’d be full on freaking out.

“Thing is,” Raihan continues on, not reacting to the lack of reaction. “I’m not too fond of all these colors. Too much red and gold. I’m thinkin’ a nice remodeling is in order. Maybe a whole lotta blue and a few splashes of orange. Whaddya think? Classy, huh? Just like me.” He smiles, but it’s nothing like the ones he normally directs at Hop, or even the _champion_. It’s not one meant to comfort. It’s not one meant to urge a smile in return.

It’s _vicious._ All teeth and bite, his prominent canines shining menacingly.

“”cause, the thing is, we both know I’ll be taking home the win today, yeah?” He says, shimmery blue eyes cold as ice. “This pretty stadium o’ yers? It’s _mine_.”

Hop, and the entire stadium, wait with bated breath for the champion to answer.

He stands there, golden eyes staring back into Raihan’s, arms folded against his chest. He closes them for a brief moment, lips downturned.

Then, _he_ smiles.

“Raihan.” He utters, shaking his head. “We both know I _don’t_ lose battles.”

That’s all it takes for the mood in the room to shift. It isn’t _what_ he says. It’s _how_ he says it.

The champion’s words are _drenched_ in one of the most patronizing and belittling tones Hop has ever heard in his life. It’s an intonation best reserved for children misbehaving. For children who don’t know better.

For a _Raihan_ who doesn’t know better.

Raihan’s height advantage doesn’t seem to matter anymore. He looks astoundingly small after that.

And _irked_. Hop can tell even from his distance. His hackles are raised. The champion has provoked him. Whether he’s dug himself a grave or assured his victory in one fell swoop remains to be seen.

Again, Hop wonders, how can this _not_ be personal?

A shower of bright lights envelop the field as both trainers take their positions.

“They’re quite good at riling the audience up, aren’t they?” Rose comments, rubbing his chin. “When it comes to ticket sales and ratings, these two are always a sure enough bet for breaking records. An exemplary pair of rivals.”

“Rivals…” Hop brings his knees up, hugging them to his chest.

Is that what they are? Rivals? That…sounds kinda cool actually.He wonders what it’s like to have one of those. Is it like on _Galar Rangers 24,_ where the leader of the bunch is always butting heads with his vice captain, and they get into all sort of silly arguments over nothing, and the rest of the squad teases them about acting like an old married couple?

Hm, that sounds a little different. And he couldn’t really say that the champion and Raihan bickered all that much. Their dynamic was far less hostile and lot more friendly. Were rivals just really good friends who liked to one up each other?Maybe a little research would be in order when they got back to Hammerlocke.

The music starts up again, jolting Hop from his thoughts. The champion does a strange little hype up routine, bouncing on his feet, loosening up his arms, punctuates it all with two slaps to his face (the weirdo) and finally, flings off his mantle, sending his first Pokémon out. Raihan does the same, with his own draconic flair.

“And the battle begins!” The commentator announces. “Dragon Master Raihan leads off with his ineffable Goodra, while the champion leads with…Haxorus?” He laughs. “What a sight! Hasn’t she dolled herself up!”

Mordred screeches. It’s a bloodcurdling cry, one Hop believes is only enhanced by her adorable ribbons. The champion’s serious facade falters slightly at the sight of them, as does Raihan’s intensity.

Dee is the one most delighted by her opponent’s appearance. She trills, stubby hands rising to cup her flushed cheeks as she bounces from foot to foot.

 _Oh_ , Hop thinks, a little embarrassed and a lot charmed by Mordred’s prideful preening. It was _definitely_ purposeful with the way Dee is admiring her. There was clearly more to her intentions than just looking as cute as her friend.

The champion quickly regains his composure, flashing his famous Charizard pose in response.

“We’re bringing home the win in _style_!” He exclaims as the crowd goes wild. Even Raihan can’t help but grin.

“That’s certainly new.” The chairman chuckles beside him. “Leon’s never been much for accessorizing his Pokémon. I can guarantee this is already trending. We'll need to look into branding that.”

Hop’s a bit put out by Rose's words. Mordred’s look was _special_. Even if she’d only had the ribbons on for a few hours, he sorta hoped it’d remain _her_ _thing_ for a little longer.

 _I guess being a trendsetter is an honor in itself_ , Hop concludes to himself, as the battle gets underway.

* * *

It’s difficult to watch.

Hop knew he would have trouble stomaching it. Knew he’d probably have to cover his eyes for a fair bit of the fight. He didn’t like battles, but that came secondary to his staunch aversion to watching the Pokémon he lived with, the companions he’d come to appreciate, the _friends_ he’d learned to cherish, go head to head, grappling each other with everything they had.

That's his _family_ out there, directing dragon pulses and breaking swipes and all sorts of cool but painful looking moves at each other.

Mordred’s apparent affection for Dee is thrown to the wind as they brawl for superiority. Dee’s rain dance and subsequent thunders singe the battlefield and send shock waves through the stadium. Mordred’s retaliation is just as swift, undeterred by the weather.

For every Pokémon that goes down, Hop can barely contain his nausea. First Dee, then Mordred after Flo’s subsequent appearance. His battle with Galahad is truly something to behold, a sandstorm for the ages whipping through the stadium. Hop is especially thankful to be situated safely behind the VIP box during that. He doesn't fancy the idea of getting sand in his eyes. The same cannot be said for the fans suffering the brunt of it in the open air, screaming for more.

Galahad has a clear advantage working in his favor for it, vanishing and reappearing whenever opportune to sneak in a few cheeky shots, Gwin and Gwen joining in the brawl and distracting Flo long enough for him to land a few critical hits.

The most difficult part by far, however, is the one on one showdown between Arthur and Lulu.

Out of the entire group, Hop feels they are the closest of the bunch. The Charizard leads with an iron fist, demanding respect where he goes (save for Mordred), while the Duraludon provides a gentle touch to his orders and demands. They make for a perfect team of peace keepers.

It's like a really weird parental dynamic. If Arthur says no, they go to Lulu, and if Lulu thinks it warrants discussion, he goes to Arthur, and a final decision is made.

A strange but charming and incredibly interesting inter-species hierarchy and process of communication. Hop would be lying if he said he hasn't taken his fair share of detailed notes on the matter.

So watching them battle?

Hop’s heart feels like it's being torn to pieces

They go at each other like complete strangers. As if they're _enemies_. Like they weren’t just helping Hop with laundry the other day, or as if they don't spent their free time sunbathing on the terrace together sharing berries. It’s a brutal fight, much worse than the ones before it.

Even their trainers reflect their brutality.

The champion’s orders become fiercer, angrier, while Raihan snarls and roars, hunched over as if he wants nothing more than to run cross the field and tear his rival’s throat out. It’s vicious, it’s wild, it’s—

Exactly what they both want.

For every hit, their grins only get wider. They taunt each other, trading jibe after jibe when they aren’t yelling out attacks. The champion gestures at the crowd, demands their support and cheers, and is willfully obeyed. For once, he isn’t faking anything. He isn’t _forcing_ anything.

He looks real.

He looks alive.

He looks like he’s having _fun_.

Raihan looks like he’s having fun. Heck, _Arthur and Lulu_ look like they’re having fun, and they’re knocking the literal life out of each other!

And it’s the same for the others, too.

No matter how many hits or misses or close calls, they all looked like they were having _fun_.

The stadium is going nuts over it, chanting and cheering, waving their towels and flags in the air, screaming their throats raw.

 _Ah_ , Hop thinks, realization finally sinking in. _This is it. This is why_.

 _This_ is why Galar’s champion is so revered. _This_ is why they follow him. _This_ is why they laud and worship and cling onto his every word. He rallies them in a way Hop’s never seen before. He holds himself like a champion should, like someone people _want_ to follow. He, dare Hop say it, follows through on his promise for a champion time.

Hop finally gets it. He gets the draw. Gets why _he’s_ Wyndon’s hero, Galar’s brightest star.He gets why someone as in love with battling as the champion is would stay and defend his title time and time again.

He gets it.

And maybe that’s why it makes him as sad as it does.

The champion and Raihan Gigantamax at the same time. It’s as amazing as Hop expects it to be. He watches in awe as Arthur and Lulu grow in size, towering over their trainers, the energy emanating from their forms sending tingles up his spine.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” The chairman says, hazel eyes aglow, reflecting the magenta waves engulfing the stadium. “The power of Dynamax and Gigantamax is quite a sight to behold. I’m not sure where we would be without it.”

“I’ve never seen it in person, but I’ve read a lot of the Professor’s research on it.” Hop replies. “She wrote that power spots have lots of energy. That even just a little can make Pokémon all big like that. I always thought it was kinda scary.”

“It’s nothing to be frightened of, Hop.” The chairman reassures him. “We’re more than capable of harnessing that energy, should it ever become an issue.” He pauses, his expression becoming distant. “I will admit, however, using it for battle…seems a bit wasteful doesn’t it?”

“Wasteful?” Hop inclines his head. “I guess? I’m not sure what else you could use it for...”

"Ah, don't worry yourself over that." Rose chuckles to himself. "I simply find energy to be an infinitely interesting topic."

Energy, huh?

Hop thinks about it a while longer until he decides he doesn't know enough about it to make any solid conclusions.

In the end, he turns his attention back to the pitch.

* * *

Lulu fights a hard fight, but ultimately, Arthur emerges the victor.

Hop winces as the Duraludon shrinks back to normal size. Raihan races forward and catches him before he can collapse onto the floor.

The stadium is silent.

Then, the champion poses. Arthur roars from meters above.The cheers that follow mute all else.

The battle is over.The champion reigns supreme yet again.

He and Raihan shake hands at the center of the pitch. Both of their appearances are in disarray but they put up a front of professionalism. Raihan compliments him and vows to come back stronger next time. The champion does the same. Cameras flocks to the field as confetti rains from the sky. Celebratory music plays, rabid reporters eager to get the first words from either side.

Strangely, Hop isn’t in much a mood to celebrate.

“May I head down, Mr. Chairman?” He requests, rising from his seat. His legs feel all staticy and pin-needley, but it’s nothing some movement won’t fix. “Please?”

“Of course.” Rose acquiesces, getting up as well. “Your brother will have a few rounds of media coverage to get through first, so it may yet still be a while until you meet again. Will you need anything in the meantime?”

“I’ll be fine, but thank you."

Hop heads down the same path he took to get to the box. The champion’s side of things is likely inundated with press hounds. Raihan should hold a similar celebrity status, but he’s not sure if a loss is equally as lucrative to bother granting coverage on as the champion’s continued success.

Apparently, it is. Hop pauses at the end of the hall, clicking his tongue at the group of people yelling out questions at the closed locker room door.So much for privacy.

Deciding a little mischief is in order one final time, he clears his throat and yells “ _Whoa_! I just saw Gym Leader Raihan headed for the exit! And he looks _super_ mad!”

Like Durants, they scatter, not even bothering to confirm with him, racing off to try and snag a candid of the gym leader looking angry.

Hop doesn't blame him if he is. Losing universally _sucks_.

Would Raihan even want company right now, though? Wouldn’t that just be annoying? Maybe he appreciates some peace and quiet after his matches and Hop would be ruining that. Maybe he should leave and wait somewhere he won't be a nuisance.

Hop debates the pros and cons for a bit. Ultimately, he summons the courage to knock on the door. There is no answer, but he’s not really expecting one. He could just as well be another reporter.

Hop pushes the door open, letting it close quietly behind him. The only audible sound are the soft pads of his sneakers against the floor.

There, sat on a bench, hunched over with his hood over his head, is Raihan.

_Leon and Raihan are professionals. They’re capable of setting their personal feelings aside._

On what planet was the chairman living on, Hop wonders with a tinge of exasperation.

There’s no way this wouldn’t be personal.

He raps his knuckles against one of the other benches, wincing as it clangs louder than intended.

Raihan glances at him briefly before returning to staring at the floor.

“Heya, Hops.” His greeting is sapped of all energy and enthusiasm. “Nice match, huh.”

“It was.” Hop replies, because what else can he say to that? “It was good, and I don’t even like them.”

It gets a pathetically weak laugh out of Raihan. Hop doesn’t like it at all.

“Sorry you had to see me—“ He cuts himself off. “Sorry you had to see _that_. I’m usually much better.”

“But you were great.”

“Wasn’t enough.” His fists clench. “It’s _never_ fuckin’ _enough_.”

The sheer bitterness of the words are familiar, in a somber way. Hop’s no trainer, but he’s nothing if not familiar with the feeling of never matching up. Of falling behind before he's even gotten to opportunity to try. Maybe he should start a club of sorts. Where everyone can lament never being _enough_.

“I know this doesn’t mean anything coming from me.” Hop starts, quietly. He isn’t in any position to comment, but he doesn’t like Raihan being sad or upset. And not over a stupid battle. Not that he’ll ever say it aloud. “But I think that was the most exciting battle I’ve ever seen.”

“Because you’ve seen a lot? You just said you don’t like them.”

Hop flinches at the harsh tone, cowering into himself.

Raihan quickly backtracks.

“ _Shit_ —Sorry." He runs a hand through his hair. "That was stupid of me to say. I’m a dumbass. Ignore me. I’m sorry.”

“N-No. Y-You’re not dumb. You’re right.” Hop swallows, kicking at the floor. “I don’t like them at all, and I don’t know anything about them besides what I’ve heard people say, a-and what I’ve heard you and the champion talk about and what I s-saw today, but I think it was really good anyway. I liked your weather a-and how everyone fought. I didn’t like seeing them get h-hurt, but all of ‘em, Lulu and Dee and Flo, they looked so _happy_ listening to you. They looked like they were having _fun_ with you, and I think that’s really nice. It’s probably stupid of me to say that’s what really matters, ‘cause losing sucks and trying to act like it doesn’t never helps. A-And it hurts when people say you’ll never be enough, but it hurts even more when you know it yourself. When you work hard and none of it pays off. B-But I don’t think that’s true for you? I think you’re a great trainer and that you’re a g-great person, and that even if you lost today, that doesn’t mean you won’t win next time. Cause one day you _will_ be enough, even if it doesn’t feel like it today.” Hop doesn’t realize his eyes are watering until his tears are nearly overflowing. He quickly wipes them away, forcing himself to calm down. Why’s he been getting so worked up lately, anyway? He should stop that. “A-Anyway, I’m probably just speaking nonsense. Ignore _me_. _I’m_ being stupid.”

“What?” Raihan laughs, and this time it’s more genuine. “Sayin’ all that nice stuff and taking it back a second after ya said it? That’s ice cold, Hopscotch.”

“It’s _stupid._ “

“It’s _not_.” Raihan gazes upon him sadly. “You wanna know what’s really stupid?”

“W-What?”

“Whoever made you think that _you_ weren’t enough.”

Hop isn’t given the opportunity to answer that, because the door slams open to reveal the champion.

“Rai.” He greets, cheeks flushes, fringe plastered to his forehead from sweat. Did he run all the way here? “And Hop. The chairman told me you’d be here.”

“Shouldn’t _you_ be with _him_?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, tossing his duffel bag onto the floor. “M’not really feeling it today.”

“S’that a good idea?” Hop frowns. “Won’t they get angry ‘cause you’ve gotta take photos or comment or…something?”

“Told him to tell them I won’t be taking any questions. They’ll probably make up some story to go along with it, but I really can’t be bothered to care.”

“Really showin’ the man, champ.” Raihan murmurs. “...Hey Hop? Do me a favor?”

“Oh. Okay.”

“There’s a little alcove at the end of the hall. It’s got a few vending machines. Mind picking up some water for me?”

“All right.” Hop nods, eager to help in any way he can. “Is that all?”

“That’s all.” Raihan smiles, and it’s sweet and kind and _warm_. He likes it better than the scary one on the pitch. “Thanks for coming to check on me, by the way. Means a lot.”

“I was worried.”

“I appreciate it. Don’t got too many folks fussin’ over me. Not in a genuine way, at least. It’s nice.”

“ _You’re_ nice.” Hop huffs. “And nice people should be worried about.”

“Am I included?” The champion chimes in, eyes all glittery. “Am I nice, too?”

“That depends on how much money you’re gonna give me to go buy Raihan a water.”

“ _Wha_ —What happened to the money I gave you this morning?”

“Spent it on food and Mordred.” Hop holds his phone out. “Money please.”

“That was a few thousand Pokédollars.” The champion’s brows furrow as he transfers the cash over. “What did you buy?”

“Ribbons. Indestructible ones.” Hop sighs in a very put upon manner. “Honestly, I shouldn’t have _had_ to do it. _You_ should be buying her all the ribbons she wants.”

“I didn’t know she liked them.” He mumbles, bummed out. "She never told _me_."

“…Do you want something to drink, too?” Hop shifts gears, lest the guy start whingeing again. “A water maybe?”

“Ooh, get me a Pokéade. The orange kind.”

“Gross.” Hop shudders. “Mum used to give me those when I was sick.”

“They’re supposed to energize ya.”

“Still gross.”

“Didn’t say I disagreed.”

Hop leaves for the vending machines.

He’s not sure whether he should be rushing or taking his time. Two distinct possibilities come to mind surrounding a meeting between the champion and Raihan after a battle where one of them, of course, loses.

One, they fight. Throw fists and get angry and just…act like stupid alpha males. Hop doesn’t think this one very likely, because he hasn’t witnessed either one of them adhere to that kinda idiotic mentality. For all of the champion’s bulk and Raihan’s height, they’re not very violence driven nor confrontational in a way that demands they assert their superiority over the other. They share a healthy friendship, one Hop can’t help but envy from time to time.

Which leads to the second possibility. A very lengthy and serious chat, perhaps peppered with unneeded apologies and a few pointers to act as an olive branch. The few times Hop’s been around to watch them be annoyed with each other, it’s mostly been dealt with by either the champion leaving to clear his head, or Raihan blasting music to distract himself. Hop was admittedly surprised to witness it the first few times, but can now only be grateful that the two men charged with his guardianship are capable of mature and rational decision making despite being as young as they are. He thinks his mum would approve.

Or maybe she’d be petty and claim herself to be the only person capable of raising him properly, her wisdom, beauty and intelligence no match for two young adults who don’t bother to hide the fact that they follow along with the early morning cartoons Hop’s taken to watching during breakfast.

He doesn’t really know.

Leaning more towards the second possibility, he retrieves their drinks as slowly as possible, taking the time to read the posters plastered on the walls, ignoring the ones with the champ’s face and smiling at the ones with the famed Ball Guy. He seems nice. Hop regrets not asking for a picture with him when he had the chance.

The extra time also gives him the opportunity to consider whether he’s feeling up for the chocolate bars taunting him from one of the snack machines.

He gives in naturally, and buys some fruit snacks, a few granola bars, and a random Pokémon trading card pack, too. He’s got a lot of money leftover, leaving him to ponder whether he should have a chat with the champion regarding the concept of money and it’s actual value or just keep his mouth shut so he can buy more card packs, but he decides to save the rest.

Arms full of goods, he ambles back, hoping his thought process hasn’t been entirely wrong and that’s he not about to walk into the champion pummeling Raihan’s face in.

He pushes the door open, about to announce his presence, but freezes instead.

His mouth snaps shut, because what he finds isn’t a violent fistfight. 

It’s the complete opposite.

Raihan is still where he was when he left, hunched over on one of the benches, but this time around, he isn’t alone. The champion is kneeling before him, hugging him close. Raihan’s face is buried into his shoulder, his hands gripping the back of the champion’s jersey, as if he's holding on for dear life. Hop can’t make out any specific words, but he can hear the champion’s soft murmuring, can see his fingers running through his dreads, see the way he’s holding on just a firmly as Raihan is.

It’s tender. It’s comforting. It’s…

…not something Hop’s meant to intrude upon.

As quietly as he can manage, he allows the door to shut again, making his way back to the vending machine alcove and plops down onto one of the benches there.

_Leon and Raihan are professionals. They’re capable of setting their personal feelings aside._

_Yet again, the chairman is proven wrong_ , Hop thinks, tearing open his chocolate bar. It’s personal, yes, but maybe that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

A pair of rivals who can drive each other to further heights, who can sneer and snarl and be ruthless on the battlefield, and afterwards, return to offer each other comfort once the dust has settled and one is left reeling. That’s beyond personal, but maybe that’s what a rival is? Someone who makes you better and isn’t always kind, but can turn around and offer you a hand when you’re falling to pieces and pull you back up when you’ve hit rock bottom.

Maybe.

Or maybe Hop’s missing something here.

He rips the card pack open next. He's not a collector, but the packaging appealed to him.

"Huh." Hop blinks. Two shiny, holographic EXs greet him.

A Duraludon and a Charizard.

Talk about fitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hop to leon and raihan: wow y'all are really good rivals  
> all of us: oh sweetie oh precious baby angel prince no no _no_


	12. the voice in my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another trip awakens sentiments best left hidden, in hop's humble opinion.

_to my sweet summer seedling,_

_Another day, another opportunity for growth._

_Like the little flowers in our garden. They start as seeds, then sprouts, and grow and grow and grow until they can’t anymore, standing tall and reaching for the sky, their petals fluttering in the wind. Strong and vibrant and beautiful._

_Like my new motif? Or whatever you wanna call it? I’ve been thinking about being more positive as of late. I don’t want you dealing with too much gloom, sweetheart, so I’m trying to think of things to tell you to make you feel better about this entire mess._

_I’m not sure if they’ll help, or if I’ll remember to tell you once I’m done writing, but maybe the Hop who’s reading this letter will get something out of it. Not that you have to, but I’d be happy if you did._

_How about I continue my story from last time? I’ve been thinking that my ancient and historical autobiography may serve as useful lessons as well. Not in a neat and concise way, like when Professor Sonia brings over her chalkboard and bullet points everything for you, but I’ve never been very conventual._

_I’m writing you letters in preparation for my official clocking out of life, for heaven’s sake. That’s as unconventional as you can get._

_I’ve reread that and think it sounds morbid. Did it make you sad? Did it make you laugh? I’d prefer you laugh. Mummy’s humor is all over the place, but she hopes you’ll laugh anyway, and think she’s a kooky nut and not a stick in the mud._

_Where did we last leave off?_

_Just reread the last letter. Leaving home._

_The moment I could, I left home. Scraped up all my savings from all the part time jobs I had and took off for the station._

_I had a plan. I was going to travel Galar, see everything there was to see about it, and try to figure out what to do with my life next._

_School wasn’t really for me, you see. I hated sitting around during lectures. Couldn’t concentrate much on anything, and found the entire formal learning process as boring as watching paint dry. When the heck was I gonna use anything they taught me in a dusty old schoolhouse anyway?_

_I wonder if I should be telling you this._

_Please stay in school, Hop. You’re all about that structured higher education stuff. It’s a good fit for you. Try not to follow mummy’s example on this. Unless that’s what you really want._

_Don’t think it is, though. You love reading books and studying and looking up anything and everything. That’s a wonderful thing, love! That inquisitiveness is what makes you you! Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise! Learn and learn and learn some more! Ignorance is definitely not bliss!_

_Back to me, though._

_I hated school and figured I’d just hitchhike my way around the region and find something fun to do. And it went well. For a while at least. I visited every city, town and village. Bought myself a camping kit to set up in the wilds. Watched the stars, saw tons of Pokémon in their natural habitat._

_Got chased out of their natural habitats more times than I can count._

_I made it all the way to Ballonlea and Circhester, Even went to Spikemuth. Great place. I’ve always wanted to take you_ ~~_but_ _not sure how safe it is_~~

_I went to the highest mountains, scaled them like a total loon and nearly got mauled seven separate times. Nearly went hypothermic another twelve. Reaching Wyndon was like reaching light at the end of a tunnel._

_Back then, the capital hadn’t yet reached its heyday. Lively, but not as big as it is now._

_The gall of that Rose fellow to start up an entire city in the northern wastelands. That takes some nerve._

_I stayed in Wyndon for a while. Got a ratty little apartment in the outer banks, where all the burnouts gathered. Met tons of interesting people, and tons of people I wish I hadn’t._

_I was living by the skin of my teeth back then. Had a few crummy part times. Could barely make ends meet, subsisting off the cheapest noodles I could find and sleeping only long enough to get my eyes to stop shutting on their own._

_Turns out mucking about in the wilderness is a lot more fun than failing to support yourself in a city that cares more about your net worth than whether you’re starving._

_I’d left home, but I didn’t feel any happier. I felt tired, alone, and hopeless. I wasn’t any closer to figuring out what I wanted, and didn’t have a single dollar to my name._

_So I started thinking. When exactly was I happiest? Back in Postwick? In Wyndon? When I was working? When I was schooling?_

_No. None of those._

_It was when I was on the rode._

_When I was living on the land exploring. I told you, Hop. That’s all I ever wanted when I was a child. I wanted to find adventure and treasure and discover legends. I wanted to solve mysteries and see the world._

_And there’s a lot more to the world than Galar._

_There are regions upon regions full of people, full of places, full of discoveries. Pokémon we’ve yet to discover, relics we’ve yet to unearth. I wanted to be the one to find them. I wanted to search them out. Not for recognition, though. I couldn’t have cared less about that._

_I wanted to feel like I was part of something bigger. Part of the Earth. Part of this universe. I wanted to feel connected to it after feeling like I was irrelevant and invisible for so long._

_I wanted to feel like there was more to me being around._

_So I left. Scavenged my gross, yard sale couch for as many coins as I could find, and took off again. Hitched a ride to the airport and used the last of my money to buy the cheapest ticket I could find to anywhere. The destination didn’t matter._

_That’s how I wound up region hopping._

_And, incidentally, how I met your father._

_Cue dramatic music!_

_I kid, I kid._

_I know I haven’t spoken much of him, Hop. I know I told you he isn’t a father. That he isn’t worthy of being called one._

_However, he is as much a part of you as I am, and I think it’s about time I stop doing you a disservice by pretending he doesn’t exist and start explaining myself properly._

_My personal feelings aside, you deserve to know everything. That’s why I’m writing these, after all. That’s why I want to encourage you to continue being curious about everything. Keep asking questions, even if you run into people as stubborn as your mummy._

_The truth is what allows us to grow, and I want you to grow to be a strong and confident flower, aware of where you’ve come from so you can use it to decide where you want to go._

_with hugs kisses and way too many flower metaphors,_

_mummy_

* * *

“Region hopper…” Hop mumbles, scanning the page for a fourth time. “I really hope that’s not how I got my name.”

Corvisquire squawks from his place on the window sill, picking at his seeds while simultaneously looking somewhat interested in whatever pieces of info Hop lets slip.

He’s become somewhat grateful for the company so early in the morning, even if the delivery bird doesn’t offer much in the form of analysis besides passive aggressive cries and occasionally pecking his fingers when he gets too close.

Galahad would be way more helpful, but he’s still sleeping on Hop’s bed despite repeated attempts on the champion’s part to get him to stop.

Frankly, Hop doesn’t see the issue. Galahad isn’t exactly tangible during the night, but maybe the answer lies in yesterday’s lecture, which he _didn’t_ pay attention to because the champ’s nagging is beyond tedious and unnecessary after the _tenth_ go around.

Either way, Galahad, and by extension Gwin and Gwen, aren’t going anywhere.

But even if he were awake, Hop doesn’t think he’d show him.

The letters have become something of a shared secret between he and the Corvisquire. He may be standoffish, but Hop’s begun to view him as a quasi investigative partner of sorts. A bringer of clues and a fountain of information. His only connection to his mother really, even if he’s prickly and uncongenial.

Hop wonders why that’s the case.

“I think she suffered a lot. My mum.” He says, running an index finger over the messy scrawl. To what extent, Hop still doesn’t know, but he’s beginning to see a bigger picture forming. One that’s missing important pieces he has yet to uncover.

What he’s most curious to know is…how _exactly_ did his father fit into all of this? She met him on her globe-trotting adventures, but what did that ultimately entail?

They had to have loved each other at some point, otherwise he and the champion wouldn’t be around. What could have happened to destroy that? What could have driven his mother far enough to essentially erase his existence from their household, leaving not a single shred of evidence behind?

Well, maybe not _all_ of it.

Hop glances at his closet door.

 _no_ , he thinks firmly, pushing down the temptation. w _e’re not going there. no._

Whatever the case may be, it seems he’ll be getting his answers in due time. Patience would be key in not getting ahead of himself and making erroneous assumptions about his mother’s decisions.

As for the champion, Hop thinks he’s come to a solid conclusion on the why of _his_ actions. The _why_ in why he would run off to Wyndon to become its most commercialized product and spokesperson, never looking back.

A fierce battle and a lively crowd. A strong team and opponent. A good rival, too.

For a battle-head like him, what more could he want? All of his needs were being met, all of his dreams and aspirations as well. Even if the rest of the profession is undesirable, as long as he could run out to the pitch and fight strong opponents, he could be content. Satisfied.

There wasn’t a need for anything or _anyone_ else. With Raihan, the chairman, and to a certain extent Sonia. An adoring public who cheer on his every move. People all over the world shouting his name and worshipping his every step. So many _people_ —

What room could there possibly be for anyone else?

“None.” He whispers. “None at all.”

Out of nowhere, the Corvisquire bites down on his hand.

“ _Ow_!” Hop yelps, clutching it to his chest. He rounds on the Pokémon, shocked by his unprovoked fury. “What was _that_ for?”

The Corvisquire puffs his chest out, wings flapping irritably.

He readies himself, eyes narrowed, and lunges into the air, landing atop Hop’s head.

“ _Hey_! That’s not a nest.” Hop reaches up to try and grab at him. All it earns him is a barrage of pecks and painful welts to the hands. “Okay! _Okay!_ No touching.”

The Pokémon’s talons pricks at his scalp painfully as he pointedly nestles in and makes himself comfortable.

“You’re not exactly light, y’know.” Hop complains.

Since that only gets him another peck to the head, he decides keeping his mouth shut’ll save him the trouble.

“Hop…?” A knock at his bedroom door startles him. He nearly starts scrambling for a cover up before recalling it’s locked for this precise reason. “You okay? I heard yelling.”

“I’m fine!” He calls back, cursing the champion’s nosiness. “Stubbed my toe.”

“Oh. Sorry. That sucks. Happens to me all the time. D’you need a bandaid or anything?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“ _Positive_ —“

“I’m _fine_!” Hop replies more aggressively. “It’s just a stubbed toe. I’ll be out in a bit!”

“…all right.”

His footsteps fade away.

“He’s so annoying.” Hop comments quietly. From his perch, the Corvisquire shuffles his feathers in agreement.

They stay like that for a while. Hop listlessly staring out the window, Corvisquire treating his hair like some kind of nesting ground.

It isn’t until he leaves, disappearing into the cloudy skies, that Hop realizes he may have been attempting to comfort him.

* * *

“Now those are what I call storm clouds.”

“The weather’s calling for it.”

“I’m talkin’ about the ones hoverin’ over yer head.”

“I’m tired.”

“You’ve been sayin’ that a lot lately.” Marnie comments, slipping into her seat beside him. “Sure yer not comin’ down with anything? Or s’it that you’re worryin’ yourself silly again?”

“Neither.” Hop sighs, fiddling with the cover of his notebook. “It’s nothing.”

“No, it _ain’t,_ and we both know it.” She frowns. “What? S’it more of your champion investigation hypothesizin’?”

Hop had filled Marnie in on the details of his trip to Wyndon upon their return to school after the long weekend, although it hadn’t done much to better her opinion of the champion or the city. Not that Hop was intending on either. He’d come to the conclusion that he felt neutral towards Wyndon and…not so neutral towards the Champion.

In fact, the myriad of emotions coiling within him were worse than _ever_.

If the truth allows for growth, is that why it’s so painful?

“Told ya not to fret too much.” Marnie tells him. “He ain’t worth the energy.”

“I know but…my head’s a full on mess.”

“That’s ‘cause ya shouldn’t be thinkin’.” Marnie prods one of his temples with a single fingertip. “Not this much, at least. Maybe the clouds I’m seein’ are actually smoke. You’d best relax before your brain blows to bits. How’re you gonna analyze this ace thing I’ve gotta show off to ya without it? ”

“What is it?”

“ _This_.” Marnie grins, adjusting Koko in her lap for an instant to dig around her pockets. She holds out her acquisition proudly. “ _Tada_.”

“A _mobile_?”

“Yes sir.” She confirms, turning it around to fully showcase the device. It’s encased in a cute, pink and black case, fitted with punky rhinestones, silver buttons, and a peculiar decal. "My bro got it for my birthday, but it came in a little late. Said it’s about time I got one of my own."

“It’s so cute.” Hop compliments, before the most important part of her statement sinks in. “…Wait, it was your _birthday_? When?”

“O’er the break.”

“No way! I’m so sorry!” Hop can’t believe he never thought to ask. That’s a really important detail, isn’t it? What kinda crummy friend is he? “I didn’t know! I should have asked. I would have gotten you something if I knew.”

“S’not like I told you either. And what are you talkin’ about? Ya got me that snazzy pen from the cap.”

“That’s not a proper gift.”

“To me it is.” She picks it out of her pencil case, flashing it at him with a smile. Hop thought it fitting for her, the side reading _‘I_ ❤️ _Wyndon’_ when held upright, fading into a less charitable ‘☠️ _thanks i hate it_ ☠️ _’_ whenever she actually uses it to write.

They’d had a nice round of giggles over it, but it wasn’t anywhere near _close_ to being an appropriate birthday present!

“I’ll get you something better.” Hop declares. “I promise.”

“Don’t think anything’ll beat this, but you can sure try. Now, set yer number up. You better be ready for me to start annoyin’ ya all day every day.”

“And you better get ready for me to show off all my cool emoticons.”

“Sounds _ace_.”

Hop adds his contact into her phone. They spend the remainder of the time before homeroom sending each other goofy messages and competing to see who can take the cutest pictures of Koko. Marnie takes the win, but Hop doesn’t mind.

The bell rings just as their teacher sweeps into the room. His classmates scramble to find their seats, their chatter quieting down but not halting.

“Whoops.” Hop jolts when his side of the desk is knocked into, sending his notebook tumbling to the floor. What he assumes to be an innocent accident doesn’t seem that way anymore when he looks up, meeting the eyes of the perpetrator.

“So— _rry_.” Dennis drawls, sticking his tongue out as he walks away. Sophie notices, fuming when he takes his seat beside her, the two engaging in their usual bout of bickering until they’re silenced by the teacher.

“That was on purpose.” Marnie whispers, visibly annoyed. “What’s he think he’s doing?”

“It’s fine.” Hop picks his notebook up, dusting it off. That’s been happening a lot lately, along with shoulder bumping, dirty looks in his direction, and passive aggressive comments regarding his relationship with the champion. It isn’t anything Hop hasn’t dealt with before, and certainly not the worst.

Whatever Dennis’s apparent problem with him, Hop’s hoping he either gets over it or grows bored trying to get a bigger reaction out of him.

“It _ain’t_.” Marnie replies. Koko squeaks in agreement, her fur coloring a violent shade of magenta. “There’s nothing fine about it.”

The day’s lessons begin, but they are far from interesting.

The teacher drones on and on and _on,_ her usual dull and bland lecturing style failing to spark a single iota of intrigue to the material.

It’s a great shame too, because they’re going over marine life, a subject Hop wouldn’t mind learning more about. Sonia’s lessons on it were always in-depth and lively, to the point where he recalls asking if she secretly preferred water-types over electric.

The answer had been an ambiguous shrug of the shoulders.

Despite the tedium, Hop remains diligent in his note taking, even if he finds himself falling victim to the draw of staring out the window, doodling between page margins, and trading notes with Marnie, however unnecessary it is.

Lunch and recess serve as much-needed reprieves, but after that, it’s back to class and more boring droning.

The day draws to a close eventually, painful as the process is.

“—and what did she mean by sharing their habitats? Is it a codependent, symbiotic relationship? Or is it more, _you keep to your turf_ , _we’ll keep to ours_ so the big bad predators higher up on the food chain don’t get us? When I think about it, it doesn’t really make _sense_. Wouldn’t those two species encroach on each other? Like, they both feed from the same food sources. How do they keep a neutral balance among their populations? Do they prey on each other?” Hop sighs, kicking a pebble. “And I can’t even ask anything because then she gets _mad_. I just want to understand what she’s trying to explain. Why does she need to make me feel like that’s a bad thing? Is it?” He glances at Marnie, who’s staring straight ahead at the road before them. “…Sorry. I’m rambling again. I’ll stop.”

“I don’t mind. I like hearin’ yer questions.” She purses her lips. “Don’t like how I can’t answer ‘em, though.”

“That’s fine. I’ll probably just look them up when I get back. Or try to read the textbook.”

They both shudder at that.

It isn’t a very good book. The only reason to ever crack it open is when they’re assigned homework questions from it. Otherwise, Hop is content to let it gather dust on his desk.

“If yer that interested, why not go to Hulbury?” Marnie suggests. “They’ve got the uh—” She pauses for a moment. “Think it’s called the Center for Marine Life Research and Rehabilitation? Not sure on that, but it’s like an aquarium slash lab where they study the water n’stuff. I went once with my bro. He’s friends with a girl that works there.”

“What’s it like?”

“Like a regular aquarium, but more studyin’ and healin’. They help injured ‘mons and release ‘em back into the wild. It’s ace.”

“Maybe I’ll ask, then.” While he doesn’t think the champion would flat out refuse, Hop isn’t sure if it would come across as bother or not. “Do you know what kinda things they study?”

“Plenty, I reckon. Ocean’s a big place with plenty of ‘mons. They had a Wailord the time we went.” Marnie’s eyes light up. Clearly, she’s a fan. “They’re _ace_ , Hop. All big and hefty and Wailord like. Whatcha think ridin’ one is like? Y’think they’d like that sorta thing?”

“Maybe if your shoes aren’t pointy?” He says, petting Koko’s cheek. She leans into his touch, pleased by the attention. He figures she must’ve been just as bored as they were in that stuffy classroom. “I wouldn’t like it if I were a Wailord and someone tried stepping on me with cleats or heels or anything.”

“You’re right.” Marnie’s expression turns determined. “If I ever get the chance, I’ll wear my softest, flattest shoes. Wouldn’t want to hurt ‘em.”

They part ways at their usual meet up point, Hop taking the now familiar cobblestone road back to Hammerlocke Stadium. The afternoon’s turning out to be a cloudy one, but the forecast is predicting more of those going forward. It makes sense given the season, but Hop’s always been partial to sunny days. He hopes the dreariness can break sooner rather than later, and offer everyone in the fortress city some well-deserved sunlight.

Hop arrives just in the knick of time, raindrops landing upon his head the moment he crosses the iconic drawbridge. Inside, he finds Camilla manning the front desk. She greets him and he returns the gesture, briefly stopping to make small chat with her before boarding the elevator upwards.

“I’m back.” He mutters, kicking off his shoes at the door. Lulu’s there, as always, holding his arms out expectantly. “Say, how do you always know when I’ll show up?”

Lulu waves his arms around.

“You can sense me?” A nod. “Is that a special dragon ability?” Another nod. “Oh…Well, that’s good. I don’t want you waiting too long for me to come up. You don’t have to wait at all, you know.”

Again, Lulu staunchly refuses to budge on that, so Hop gives over his bag and runs a hand over his steely armor affectionately.

“Thank you.” He says, unable to contain a smile. “I appreciate it.”

The Duraludon croons. He leans over and nip’s softly at his cheek. It gets a quiet laugh out of Hop.

“You remind me of my mum.” He admits. “I hope that’s not weird of me to say.”

Lulu shakes his head, leaving to put his bag away

“Hop?”

A voice calls his name from the kitchen. He trots over, a faint and familiar, delicious smell wafting through the halls.

Hop comes to a stop at the doorway, surprised but the sight of an apron clad Sonia and Raihan standing beside each other. They’re huddled over the stove, stirring a large pot of what Hop finally realizes is curry. At the kitchen table sits the champion, head resting upon the cool surface, a prominent pout marring his lips.

“Heya, Hopscotch!” Sonia greets him with a lovely smile. She holds out her arms. “Welcome back!”

“I’m back!” Hop rushes into them. “I didn’t know you were coming to visit.”

“Dropping by unannounced is a better way to keep everyone on their toes.” She casts a pointed look in the champion’s direction. “Also, Raihan’s been bugging me about helping him get better at cooking. Today seemed like a good day for lessons.”

“He’s been getting better.”

“I would hug you for that, but I’m afraid of ruining this.” Raihan says, refusing to take his eyes off the pot. “Take a spiritual hug from me, Hops.”

“Received.”

“I want a spiritual hug.” The champion whines, index finger drawing circles onto the table. “Will you receive one from me?”

“Did you burn something? Hop asks, ignoring his request. “Did they ban you for burning something?”

“Nah, he tipped over the first attempt.” Raihan explains, stirring in time with the beat he’s muttering under his breath. “Got excited and knocked his hip right into it. Made a bloody horrible mess.”

“I was _trying_ to _help_.”

“You can help from over there.” Sonia responds flippantly. “Leave this to the adults.”

The champion grumbles a few choice words under his breath, earning a heated glare from her.

Hop takes one for the team and plops down across from him, mainly to stop him from distracting them.

Instantly, the champion brightens, sitting up straight, adjusting the, thankfully, all black cap on his head.

“Hello, Hop.” He says with a grin, hands drumming against the table. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.”

“How was school?”

“Fine. Boring.” Hop frowns. “It was so boring it made me think of how much better a teacher Sonia is.”

“ _Aww_. Thank you!” She winks at him. “I’m glad I could properly aid you in your quest to be a well-learned intellectual. I miss it sometimes. Planning your lessons was always fun.”

“Why don’t you try tutoring someone else?” Hop suggests. “If you like it.”

“No way.” She makes an x with her arms for emphasis. “That was a one time gig because you are my precious assistant. I am _not_ taking care of those snotty brats back home. Absolutely not. A million times _no_.”

“They _are_ pretty snotty.”

“The _snottiest._ Besides, I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“Talk about _dangerous_.” The champion teases. He catches the apple Sonia lobs at his head with ease.

“ _As I was saying_ , I’ve been thinking. About my future.” Sonia folds her arms against her chest. “My sis stopped by the other day.”

“O-Oli did?” Hop tenses in his seat. “Really?”

“Sure. Completely out of the blue. Super weird.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Wasn’t really talking to her, but she came by and we had a chat and…I wouldn’t say we worked anything out, but we spoke and it was enlightening. It got me thinking. And what I’m thinking is…I think it’s about time I head back to school.”

“If that’s what you want, go for it.” Raihan responds immediately. “You’re the smartest of the smarties, clever clogs. If anyone can manage it, it’s you.”

“Ta, Rai.” She bumps him on the arm affectionately. “Thing is, I’m not sure how to go about it. I mean, I’ve got an _idea_ of what I’d be interested in studying, but I don’t want to commit to anything, you know? Because, like, how will I know if it’s really what I want? It’s an important decision to make and I’m—I don’t want to screw it up.”

“How would you screw that up?” The champion’s brows furrow. “I mean, I didn’t go to uni and I turned out fine. As long as you don’t drop out, everything should work itself out.”

“Thank you for the reassurance, big bad battle champion.” Sonia deadpans. “Not as if I’ve ever done that before, right?”

The temperature in the room drops a few degrees.

Raihan’s stirring briefly stalls before picking up once again. He casts a pointed look in the champions direction.

“I-I didn’t mean—That’s not—I’m sorry, Sonia, that’s not what I meant I—“ The champion’s stammering trails off. “…sorry.”

“…It’s fine.” Sonia replies quietly. “It’s in the past. Doesn’t matter anymore. Forget it.”

“…What were you thinking of studying?” Hop inquires in an attempt to do away with the sudden tension. He doesn’t know what it is they seem to be referring to, but he’d rather Sonia not be uncomfortable when she’s gone out of her way to confide in them something this important to her. “Sciency stuff?”

“Sciency stuff.” She confirms with a smile. “But I’m also leaning towards anthropology. Maybe a minor in it. Not sure.”

“You’re a lady after my own heart, Sones.” Raihan switches the ladle to his opposite hand, holding the other out for Sonia to take. “You sure you don’t wanna get hitched? City hall’s only a few blocks down the road.”

“Tempting, but I’m no home wrecker.” Sonia sighs dramatically, lacing their fingers together. “Perhaps in another life.”

“Worth a shot.” Raihan clicks his tongue. “Any specific unis you’re thinking of?”

“Well, there’s Hammerlocke, of course.” She purses her lips. “Wyndon’s also an option, not to mention Motostoke. I _could_ also go abroad. I’ve heard they’ve got a lot of great work-study programs out in Kalos and Unova…” At Hop’s devastated expression, she quickly backtracks. “B-But it’s not as if I’d be there forever! I’d study, get some experience, and come right back! If I do decide to go that is.”

“Y-You should.” Hop says against everything his heart compels him to feel. He couldn’t be selfish and hold her back from her dreams, no matter how lonely and scared it made him feel. He needed to forget his feelings and support Sonia, whatever she decides to do. “I-If that’s what you want, you should go and—and do what you _want_! _V-Votre Kalosian est très bon, non_?”

“ _Oui, mon précieux bouton floral.”_ Sonia responds, a complicated look on her face. “ _Ne t'inquiètes pas. Rien n'est encore gravé dans le marbre._ ”

“ _Vous allez me manquer_.”

“Hop, you’re going to make cry and I’m not even enrolled anywhere yet.”

“Sorry…”

“Um _…_?” The champion stares incredulously at Hop. “I get Sonia, but since when did _you_ speak _Kalosian_?”

“Since she taught me it, _imbécile grossier._ ”

“Damn.” Raihan snickers, lowering the stove’s heat.

“What? What did he say? What did that mean?”

“He said you look like a Tangela.”

“No, I did _not_ —“

“ _Really_?” The champion grins, his sparkly whites on display for everyone to see. “That’s so _sweet_! I think you look like a _imbécile grossier,_ _too_! _”_

Raihan bursts into laughter, not at all intimidated by the glare Hop directs at him, his cheeks tinged red.

Sonia merely sighs.

“Leon, I think it says a lot about how unfair and unbalanced the universe is when you can’t speak the language but could pronounce that perfectly on your first try.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “What is Arceus _doing_ up there?”

“Not sure what you mean, but I’ll take that as a compliment.” The champion replies, blissfully clueless. “C’mon. Teach me more. I wanna speak Kalosian with you two.”

“The time and patience that would require isn’t anything I can offer at the moment.”

“You’re no fun.” He sticks his tongue out at her, returning his attention to a pouty Hop. “Anything else you want to share about your day?”

“No.” He pauses, thinking back to Marnie’s suggestion. If there’s any time to ask, it’s probably right now, especially with Sonia around. If the champion refused, she would serve as the moral high ground. “Actually…um, today we were going over the ocean and water-type Pokémon and their habitats.”

“Sounds fun.” The champion says. “Water types are…all right, I guess.”

Raihan snorts.

“I wish Nessa were here.” He says. “She’d kick your ass for saying that.”

“She'd kick my ass for many reasons. She's dead set on taking me down."

"I am, too."

"Yeah, but she won't be as nice about it."

“Who’s Nessa?” Hop asks Sonia as the champion and Raihan bicker back and forth about whether he does or does not warrant the hatred this person seems to hold for him.

“A…friend of ours.” Is her stilted response. “She specializes in water types.”

“You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Yeah…” Sonia gives a non-committal shrug. “What were you saying about your class?”

“…Oh! Um, well, my teacher isn’t very good at explaining things like you are, and I was talking to my friend about the lesson, ‘cause I was really interested in it. And she told me that, uh, th-that if I was really interested in learning more, I could go to Hulbury. She said they have an aquarium research place there, and that I could learn more if I went. That’s why I was wondering if I could…” Hop trails off uncertainly.

“You want to go.” The champion sums up bluntly, tearing his attention away from Raihan with unprecedented haste. “To the aquarium in Hulbury.”

Hop nods bashfully.

“Yes.”

“Sure.”

Well that was easy.

“…Really?” Hop asks, surprised.

“Sure.” The champ repeats, visibly confused. “If you want to, I don’t see why not. Would this weekend be okay?”

“Y-yes!” Hop nods, excited by the prospect. “That’s fine!”

“Cool!” The champion smiles at him before turning to Raihan. “Wanna tag along, Rai?”

“I should be free.”

“Nice.” He glances at Sonia. “How about you?”

“ _Me_?” She scratches her cheek. “I’m not sure…”

“You should definitely come!” Hop exclaims excitedly. Noticing Sonia’s grimace, though, he dials himself back. “I-If you want to. I know you’re busy…”

“C’mon, Sonia.” The champion insists. “It’ll be fun.”

“…all right.” She agrees after a moment of hesitance. “Sure. Why not?”

Hop is tempted to ask why she doesn’t seem very excited about the idea, but then Lulu pokes his head into the kitchen, gesturing for Hop to follow.

“What’s up?” He asks as he’s lead into his room. His bag is in its usual place, and nothing seems out of order.

That is, until the Duraludon gestures towards his bookshelf.

Specifically, a conspicuously empty space on it.

“My Ho-oh…” Hop rushes over, pushing the rest of his figures aside, as if the missing one will miraculously reappear behind or below them. “Have you seen—Wait, that’s a dumb question. You were looking for it, weren’t you?

Lulu nods, anxiously scanning the room. Perhaps he sensed it was important to Hop, which is why he stuck around trying to locate it.

“Where could it have gone?” Hop scratches his head, padding out into the hall to investigate, Lulu hot on his heels. He barges back into the kitchen, scanning the floors and checking the counters to the confusion of its occupants before barreling into the living room.

“What’s up?” Raihan calls after him, in the midst of finally plating the curry. “Lookin’ for something?”

“My Ho-oh!”

“What?”

“It’s one of his toys.” Hop doesn’t stick around for the rest of Sonia’s explanation. He scours the entire living room with Lulu’s help, checking under pillows and couch cushions (a difficult task with a Goodra sprawled on one and a Charizard on the other), crawling along the carpet, poking around any piece of furniture in his way.

It has to be around here somewhere. He doubts some super secret thief could manage to sneak into his room and nab it without being noticed, not with six dragons and a half dragon half human hybrid lurking around. Not that it was valuable enough for anyone besides Hop to want to keep for themselves in the first place, but Hop liked to think it was.

If a dragon’s den was for protecting treasure, than that was _Hop’s_ treasure. He may not have a single draconic characteristic about him, but protecting what was _his_ was a universal enough feeling to share with them.

“Have you see my Ho-oh?” He asks the ‘mons staring at him curiously. “It’s about this big, is red, orange, yellow and green, and bird-like? I-It was in my room.”

Both shake their heads. Hop sighs, wondering where else to look when movement on the terrace catches his eye.

Flo is tumbling through the air, unbothered by the light drizzle raining upon him. He seems incredibly content with whatever it is he’s gnawing on.

Gnawing on…

Hop’s heart drops when he realizes what’s in his mouth.

“Flo.” He calls out, opening the glass doors. “Flo, can you come here a sec?”

The Flygon’s antennae perk up. He zips over, wings batting happily as he nuzzles Hop’s face, none the wiser to what he’s done.

“Flo.” Hop murmurs, running a hand along his neck. “May I see what you have in your mouth? _Please_?”

And just like that, Hop finds himself with a throughly mangled and slobbered upon Ho-oh figure in hand.

It’s hardly recognizable anymore, chewed to pieces and utterly destroyed, what little of the paint that remains chipped to near nonexistence.

“Did you find it?” Sonia asks, appearing behind him.

“Yeah.” He holds it out. “I found it.”

“…Oh, Hopscotch.” While her tone is sympathetic, her face twists with revulsion at the sight. Hop doesn’t blame her. He’d usually be grossed out too, but the loss weighs too heavily on his heart for him to care. “I’m sure it was an accident.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” No, he really isn’t, but the damage has been done.

Flo is looking between him and the figure, understanding dawning on him. He lets out a somber cry, his lensed eyes growing watery as he curls into a ball on the floor, not unlike what Hop feels like doing at the moment.

For all the mischief Flo tends to cause, Hop is under no impression it was a malicious act. He likely wandered into his room, saw it, thought it’d be a nice chew toy to amuse himself with, and proceeded to throughly annihilate it via innocent playtime. It makes sense.

Doesn’t make him _feel_ any better, but it makes sense.

“Did he find it?” Raihan enters the room, the champion following right after him. Glancing at the mess in Hop’s hand and his Pokémon on the floor, he connects the dots relatively quickly. “Ah…”

“He sure did a number on it.” The champion comments unhelpfully, wincing at the drool that drips from Hop’s fingertips. “Think a little glue’ll work?”

“ _Flo_.” Raihan rests his hands on his hips, appearing everything a displeased father should be. Not even the Goomy print apron manages to cloak the sheer disappointment radiating off of him. “You _know_ you’re not allowed in Hop’s room. I’ve told you _, multiple times,_ not to go in there when he isn’t around, haven’t I?”

Flo wails, his tail whipping around violently.

And as soon as he starts, Dee starts, because that’s how it _always_ is. The Goodra collapses onto the floor next to him, hugging her friend close in an attempt to comfort him. They cling to each other, a mess of lavender and green and really loud sobbing and overdramatic keening.

Arthur rolls his eyes from his perch on the sofa, casting an exasperated look at Lulu, who looks utterly mortified by what’s happening.

“I know you didn’t know it was important to him.” Raihan doesn’t let up on his scolding. “But that doesn’t give you the right to take his belongings without his permission. Would you like it if someone took your Clefairy doll? The one you’ve had since you were a Trapinch? _Would you_?”

Another wail. Flo shakes his head frantically.

“No, right? You wouldn’t. Because it’s _special_ to you. That was special to Hop, and now he’s upset. Instead of crying, don’t you think there’s something else you should be doing?”

Flo sniffles. Dee wipes his tears away and gives him an encouraging push back into the air.

He lets out the most heart-wrenching trill, his remorse clear as day.

Hop takes a deep breath.

It would be easy to lash out and hurt Flo with his words, say all sorts of nasty things and give into the anger prickling at the back of his neck. The hurt tingling at the back of his throat and threatening to overflow by way of mean spirited vitriol.

It’s easy to be cruel.

Hop doesn’t _want_ to be cruel.

He _refuses_ , because that’s what a monster would do, and regardless of how valuable the figure was to him, Flo is worth more than a crummy doll made out of a bunch of twigs and cheap paint.

“I forgive you.” He says, laying his free hand on the ‘mons head. “But please don’t do this again. If you want to play with something in my room, ask me first. I don’t mind as long as it’s not anything on my shelves, okay?”

Flo nods fervently, eyes glistening. He butts his head against Hop’s palm, gazing at him imploringly.

‘ _Hug_?’The Flygon gets across without words.

Hop smiles weakly.

“Hug.”

Flo is on him in an instant, curling around his body like a serpent. It sends him stumbling back a few steps, but Dee is quickly there to steady and join in on the crushing embrace, grateful for the return of peaceful, happy times.

Arthur yawns. Lulu sits beside him, visibly relieved.

“Now that that’s settled, how about a little curry?” Raihan questions with a grin. “Think it’s my best attempt yet. I might even give future Professor Sonia a run for her money.”

“You wish!” She exclaims, rushing after him, leaving Hop and the champion behind.

He points to the mess in Hop’s hand.

“You think there’s any fixing that?” He asks, poking one mangled wing with a grimace.

“No.” Hop sighs, continuing to pat Flo on the back to reassure him that he isn’t hated and is indeed loved. “Wasn’t any good.” He mutters, blinking back tears, trying his best to walk with two dragons clinging onto him. “Prolly belongs in the rubbish bin anyway.”

The champion follows, but doesn’t say anything in response to that.

Hop’s grateful. He’d much rather forget this ever happened.

* * *

The weekend can’t arrive sooner.

Hop barely manages to get a wink of sleep the night before, jittery and excited and too hyped up on the prospect of all the notes he’s going to take and questions he’s planning to ask.

“Water Pokémon…sound kinda cool.” He whispers into the darkness of his room. “They’ve got fins and scales and can swim. Like…Kyogre. I looked them up earlier. They’re a _really_ big water ‘mon. If they have one there, that’d be nice.”

Galahad cracks an eye open, looking throughly unimpressed.

“That doesn’t mean _dragons_ aren’t.” Hop tells him with a pout. “You can all be cool. It’s not a competition.”

Galahad stares.

“It’s not nice to think you’re better than other types.”

Still, he _stares_.

“…I mean, I guess dragons are a _little_ cooler.” Hop mumbles. That’s probably his bias speaking, but it’s difficult to reign in those feelings when he lives with _eight_ of them. Although, he _has_ been growing fond of flying types too… “Only a little okay? It’s not nice if it’s any more than that.”

With what is most definitely a smirk, Galahad’s eye flutters shut one more, and he drifts to sleep.

Hop follows suit shortly after.

The morning of, Hop’s ready to go before his alarm even goes off.

Given that it’s too early to head off, and that neither Leon nor Raihan are awake, he spends the time preparing breakfast for himself and the rest of the gang before they all plop down on the couch for a few Saturday morning cartoons.

“I’ve never seen this show before.” He comments from where he’s squished between Arthur and Mordred on the sofa after a fifth rerun of _Galar Rangers 24_ ends. There’s a pigtailed girl on the screen now, dressed in a sailor uniform, preaching about the moon and love and justice. He keeps it on out of curiosity, intrigued by her colorful transformation and quirky group of friends. It makes him a little jealous, though the bond they share is charming enough for him to set those feelings of envy aside.

“I like the main girl.” He decides. She’s clumsy and air-headed, but kind and brave at heart. Her hair is also lovely, and reminds him of Marnie’s in a way. “She’s cute.”

Arthur grunts, gesturing to the girl in red. She’s fiery and aggressive, but mature and elegant.

Mordred scoffs at his choice and points to the girl in green, a sporty and spunky gal with lots of attitude.

Galahad firmly disagrees with them both from his place on the carpet, where he’s lying upon his stomach. He launches Gwen at the television screen, where she phases through the little girl with pink hair before returning to her respective cannon. It figures. His Dreepy are dead ringers for her.

“Who do you like, Lulu?” Hop asks, prodding him in the back with his toe.

The ‘mon contemplates his choice for a moment, settling upon the girl in blue. Shy, sweet and gentle, but with a confidence and intelligence to go along with it. It’s adorably fitting.

Feeling left out, Flo and Dee whine at him, claiming the girl in orange to be the best. The mixture of ditziness, eccentricity and hopelessness is, again, oddly fitting.

“They’re so brave. I’d be embarrassed saying any of that stuff.” Hop watches as they blast their enemies with powerful, colorful attacks, main twin-tail girl settling for whacking the life out of the treacherous villain with her staff while simultaneously lecturing them on their lack of belief in what she stands for.

It’s a good show, he decides, and spends the next hour or two watching the proceeding episodes, the champion and Raihan eventually getting up and preparing themselves for the day ahead of them. A little _too_ _slow_ for Hop’s liking, his impatience palpable with every groan, complaint, and passive aggressive comment on the speed with which the champion is debating which of his _three hundred_ _caps_ he should wear.

“It doesn’t _matter_.”

“It _does_.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Does _not_.”

“Does _to_.”

“ _No_.”

“Yes.”

“ _No_!”

“ _Yes_!”

“Would you two _stop_?” Raihan plucks one cap from his grip places it on his head. “This one. Matches your outfit better. Brings out your eyes, too.”

“This one it is.” The champion winks, and they share an odd sequence of unspoken words with one another.

“But he’s gonna wear glasses— _never mind._ ” Hop stops himself before he can delay their trip any further. “Can we go now? Please?”

“You’re so impatient today.” Raihan regards him with amusement. “That excited?”

“They might have a Kyogre!” Is the only explanation that Hop deems necessary. “We’re wasting time when there could be a Kyogre!”

“Well in that case, we better pick up the pace.”

“Exactly!”

They fly to their destination this time around, too.

Hop doesn’t understand what their aversion to public transport is (besides the obvious reasons), but decides it doesn’t really matter. The view upon Flo’s back more than justifies it, even if Raihan’s handling of his Pokémon is far less smooth and much more reckless than the champion’s.

They arrive by mid-noon.

Hulbury is a quaint little town. Hop’s read a bit about its fishing industry, but seeing it in person is another matter altogether. Boats line the docks, flocks of Wingull and Pelipper pepper the boardwalk. An open market is bustling with activity, along with small store fronts and restaurants. The fresh sea breeze tickles his skin, tinged with the distinct scent and taste of salt.

Hop quite likes it.

They get to the aquarium after only a few minor inconveniences (raihan’s selfies for his social, the champion wandering off and getting lost three separate times, and twice for hop to tie his shoelaces).

Sonia is already there when they arrive, tapping her foot and gnawing on one of her nails.

“Scones!” Hop cheers, holding out his hands. She high fives them. “We’re here. I hope we didn’t keep you waiting.”

“Just got here myself.” She says, nodding at the other two. “Ready to head in?”

“Are _you_?” Raihan asks with a frown. “You don’t have to.”

“I think it’s the opposite.” She sighs. “I’ve been putting it off for too long.”

Hop glances between them, then at the champion, who seems just as confused as he is.

They shrug at the same time and usher themselves into the building, Raihan and Sonia trailing behind.

To say it’s what Hop was expecting is incorrect.

It’s even _better_.

It’s as if he’s walking through the ocean (not that he’s ever been anywhere remotely close enough to the ocean to know what that must be like). Transparent, crystalline tanks tower over them, hosting a variety of different species of Pokémon. Unique plant life line the floors, nautical artistic structures serving as decor to help create the illusion of the seafoor. Tablets attached to the stands line the outside of the displays, descriptions of each inhabitant switching out between intervals.

“—so Arrokuda jaws are as strong as steel, but that’s never a problem for the glass?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” Sonia answers, swiping through the descriptions with a frown before offering her own explanation. “They can’t grip it so they can’t crack it.”

“Huh.” Hop nods, scribbling a few notes down in his journal. “I’ve read they’re very territorial and fierce predators, but once they eat they’re as good as defenseless. Doesn’t it put them at risk?”

“The majority of the species they share territories with aren’t aggressive, are non-carnivorous or filter feeders.” She says, pointing out the other Pokémon swimming around their tank. “The only real predator they have to worry about are Cramorant. They keep their populations in check while simultaneously protecting all the little guys, who don’t provide enough nutrition to warrant the energy wasted in trying to gobble them up.”

“That’s amazing!”

“The beauty of nature, right? _Now_ , if you want to start talking _Barraskewda_ , that’s when we get into the more complex side of things. Evolution changes the entirety of their interactions.”

“How?”

“Funny you should ask. They—“

“Is that a Lantern?” The champion abruptly exclaims, poking the glass despite the clear warning beside them urging guests not to. “It is! They’re so cute!”

“…yeah, so, they—“

“And Chinchou! Take a picture, Rai! It’s looking at us!”

“How ‘bout I do that, and then we let Hop and Sonia do their thing?” Raihan suggests, casting an apologetic look their way. “We’ll meet up with you two later.”

“Sure.” Sonia agrees, turning to Hop. “Is that all right with you?”

“It’s fine.” Hop replies, despite the strange sense of disappointment he feels.

He knows his interests aren’t exactly exciting. Taking notes is hardly the action packed spectacle battling is, but would it hurt to _pretend_ to be even a little invested?

It’s stupid.

Hop shouldn’t care whether the champion is interested in what he’s doing. He’s here for his own sake, not to try and validate what he enjoys to the moron with his face plastered against the tank glass, failing to call over the group of Chinchou bobbing away in a completely different direction.

He doesn’t care.

He _doesn’t_.

“Let’s keep going.” Hop takes Sonia’s hand and leads her forward. “I think I heard someone mention Octillery.”

“But what about Barraskewda?”

“You can tell me later.” And in the mean time, the champion can have fun with Raihan, and it’ll probably be like old times for them, where he _isn’t_ in the way and they don’t have to look after him.

It’s fine.

Fun for everyone, right?

* * *

“Kingler claws are really big, aren’t they?”

“Powerful, too. They can crack open Cloyster with them.” A group of them skitter around their habitat. “Ol used to say I looked like one. Especially when I got mad.”

“I agree.”

“You weren’t supposed to!”

Hop laughs at Sonia’s pout. It’d taken a while, but after more exploration and questions on his part, her anxiousness had mostly disappeared, much to his relief. He’d meant to ask what her initial hesitance was about, but fearing it would only discomfort her again, Hop kept his curiosity to himself. It’s not like everything has to be his business.

Turning his attention back to the Kingler, he notes how the majority of them look worse for wear, their pincers cracked or severely emaciated. It was much the same with the other Pokémon they’d stumbled upon on their way around. Most, if not all, were suffering from one ailment or another.

Which coincides with what Marnie mentioned about Pokémon being cared for within the premises. When he and Sonia stopped by an exhibit where Vaporeon were kept, the staff had been in the process of treating one of their fins, a nasty tear running straight through it.

“It counts as an aquarium, but the goal is to inform the public about how important ocean conservation is.” Sonia explains when he asks about it. “The people of Hulbury respect the sea and its creatures. They may rely on fishing, but there are strict policies in place to prevent overfishing. The same with pollutants. It’s the reason they established this center. They don’t cover anything up because they want us to _know_ the harm we’re capable of, and to learn how to prevent it.”

“That’s so noble.”

“It is.” Sonia agrees, a small smile blooming across her face. “It’s inspiring. Makes me want to be more compassionate towards the world, y’know?”

“You already are, though?” In fact, Hop doesn’t know of a person _more_ compassionate than Sonia. “That’s all you ever do at the lab. Even when the Professor tells you she can handle it, you always argue and stick around to help. I still remember the time you helped get those Ponyta back on their feet. Even the Professor gave up! But _you_ _didn’t_. You stayed up all those nights and came to my lessons all sleepy and still managed to save them!”

“ _Aw_ , cut it out, Butterscotch.” Sonia grins, her cheeks tinted pink. Throwing an arm around his shoulders, she pulls him against her side. “I’m just trying to do right by the universe, I guess.”

“The universe is lucky to have you.”

“Hop, do you want me to start bawling like a baby in public?”

“Sorry.”

“You super duper _cutie_.” She pinches his cheeks affectionately. “Thanks.”

She seems happy and it makes Hop happy, so all in all, he wouldn’t take back his words for anything in the world.

They explore a few more spots. Sonia gets to impart all the knowledge she admits to have been looking forward to sharing with him. Hop takes a ridiculous amount of notes. It’s a much better experience than learning it from a boring textbook. He’ll be sure to share his findings with Marnie. Her own notes aren’t anything to scoff at, but he thinks she’ll appreciate all the interesting fun facts he’s collected.

Eventually, they make it to the center of the building, a large, circular room tinted in a pleasantly cool blue hue, surrounded on all sides by curved tanks. At the center lies a large, pool-like structure. It’s deep, hosting hundreds upon hundreds of gallons of water. Attached to its circumference are stairs, leading up to a platform where caretakers are presumably given access to the Pokémon currently inhabiting the space.

And what a Pokémon it is.

“Wow.” Hop’s eyes grow wide with amazement at the elegant creature practically _dancing_ through the water, scales gleaming prettily. “What Pokémon are they?”

“That’s a Milotic.” Sonia replies, equally as wonderstruck. “Prettiest Pokémon this side of everywhere. Lucky you. They aren’t very common.” Her lips downturn slightly. “And somehow, someone _still_ managed to hurt this one."

“What?” Hop frowns, squinting to get a better look. “Where?”

“You see all the faint criss-crossy lines all over its body? Those are from nets.”

“Do you think it was an accident?”

“I doubt it.” Sonia grimaces. “Seems more like a few different folks tried capturing it. The way the scars are healed atop of one another give it away. Milotic are sharp ‘mons. The aren’t the types to just… _get caught_. I reckon this one put up a fight every time and came out with the scars to prove it.”

“What about the little ones?” Hop asks, inclining his head as a sandy colored fish swims up to him. “Did they get stuck in fishing nets, too?

“No, they naturally look a little rough around the edges. Those are Feebas. They evolve into Milotic. Hardy little guys. Can thrive no matter where they are.”

“Oh.” Hop blinks. The Feebas blinks back. His lips quirk upward. “I like them. They remind me of my mum.”

“…in what way?”

“You said they’re strong, right? And can survive no matter where they are? I think that’s what my mum did.” He doesn’t have the whole story, but it doesn’t matter. She lived through pain and sadness and still managed to smile at Hop, even when she didn’t need to. “I think she had the heart of a Feebas and the bravery of a Milotic, one who breaks out of fishing nets no matter how hard people try to trap them.”

“…I think so, too.” Sonia says softly. “Your mum was something else, Hop.”

“Yeah.” He agrees. “She was.”

They stand in silence, watching the Milotic dart around their tank, Feebas diligently following behind them. Hop wonders if they dream of turning into Milotic themselves one day. If they think it’s necessary. If they feel like they don’t shine nearly as much.

Hop hopes not. He hopes they know it’s okay to be a cute Feebas. And that it’s okay to want to be a Milotic, too.

“Whoa, it’s Nessa!”

“It is? How lucky are we!”

“Is she gonna do her thing?”

“No way!”

Hop glances at the other visitors peering into the pool a few steps away, excitedly pointing up the stairs and at the platform, where a young woman is casually dunking her toes into the water. She shrugs off her baggy, white and blue track jacket, along with the matching cap on her head, stretching her muscles.

“Nessa…” Hop faces his companion. “Isn’t that the name of your friend? The one you mentioned the other day?”

Sonia is struck into silence. Her eyes are wide, her skin is sheet white. Her hands are stuffed into her pockets, but Hop can tell they’re balled into fists.

She looks terrified.

“Sonia…?” Hop trails off, the sound of water splashing garnering his attention. He looks back at the platform, but the girl in no longer there. He glances back into the pool, a haze of bubbles at the center dissipating to reveal her lithe form gracefully cutting through the water with ease, as if she’s an extension of it.

She joins the Milotic and Feebas, diving further downward, much to the delight of the visitors watching. They wave and squee and take pictures of her, complimenting and raving about her technique. Hop can’t comment much on that, given his technique has always been to splash around helplessly while he waits for Sonia to save him from drowning, but even he can see she’s placed a lot of effort into being a competent swimmer.

He watches in awe of her skill. Of the way she interacts with the water Pokémon. They trust her, enjoy her presence, and accept her into their group with no hesitation.

Suddenly, her head snaps towards them.

Or more specifically, towards Sonia.

Changing trajectory, she abruptly turns and darts straight for them, eyes an intense shade of blue, dark locks of hair fluttering behind her.

The swimmer comes to a halt, stopping right in front of Sonia.

They stare at each other for what feels like the tensest of eternities. Sonia looks seconds away from bolting while the other girl’s expression remains passive and unreadable.

Then, she switches her attention to Hop.

She lowers herself, laying her hands against the clear glass. Hop blinks, copying the gesture, lining their hands up.

His are smaller. Hers are long and thin, nails painted a pleasant shade of sky blue.

“Like a mermaid…” He whispers aloud without meaning to, his cheeks flushing red.

The girl has some sort of breathing apparatus in her mouth, but even that can’t conceal the small smile she directs at him in response.

And just as quickly as she swam over, she swims away, school of Pokémon hot on her heels.

“Did you see her, Sonia?” Hop immediately asks, amazed. “Isn’t she so _cool_? Like a mermaid?”

“Y- _Yeah_.” Sonia gargles, burying her face into her hands. “Sh-She is.”

The crowd disperses after that, pleased by the little show.

He and Sonia remain in the area, mostly at his insistence since there are Toxapex nearby and he wants to know what it is about Galarian Corsola that make them unappealing to their tastebuds.

Sonia is too jumpy to answer his questions, to the point where she can barely form a coherent sentence. Hop’s about to ask if she wants to take a seat and drink some water or _something_ when _—_

“Galarian Corsola are capable of siphoning their life force.” The star swimmer arrives on the scene, answering his question. Once again, she sports her jacket, cap, and a pair of sandals. She looks at the Toxapex beyond the glass. It’s missing two of its legs. “Not a great idea to eat them, even if they’re delicious.” 

“‘Cause they’re _ghost_ types. _Right_.” Hop jots that down quickly before offering her his full attention. “Um, you were really great! Are you Nessa?”

“Last I heard.” She shrugs. “Thanks. It’s a thing I like to do for them. They’re not used to being stuck in a tank, so I do what I can to make it a little more bearable.”

“Are they healing?”

“Yes. Found them getting stalked by poachers.” She clicks her tongue, brows furrowed from irritation. “A Milotic with its own pod of Feebas is a rare catch. I figure they were planning on nabbing her and forcibly inducing the others to evolve.

“Th-That’s _horrible_.”

“Deep pockets attract unsavory business. We’ve got the rangers investigating. Should be a clean and cut case.”

“That’s good. I hope nobody else tries to steal them once they’re back in the ocean.”

“I hope so too…?”

“Hop.”

“Good to meet you, Hop.” Nessa shakes his hand. It’s firm and confident. She glances at the nervous red-head beside him next. “Hey.”

“H-Hey.” Sonia whispers, avoiding direct eye contact.

Hop silently observes the pair, not sure exactly how to dispel the weird tension between.

He knows by now that Sonia can’t necessarily be on good terms with Nessa, or that something rather serious has strained their relationship, judging by how scared she seems at the moment. That has to be why she was so hesitant about coming along. Maybe she knew there was a chance they would see her.

_I’ve been putting it off for too long._

That was what she said to Raihan, right? Perhaps she thought this would be a good opportunity to reconcile?

Hop doesn’t know.

Maybe he should try to help?

“Nessa, do you work here?” He starts with, mostly for Sonia but also for his own curiosity. “Do you take care of the Pokémon?”

“Not really. I’m actually Hulbury’s gym leader.”

“You are?” That makes _two_ gym leaders Hop knows. Talk about a small world. “That’s interesting.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.” She huffs out an amused laugh. “Part of the job description is taking care of my city, so that’s what I do. I come around often to oversee everything, make sure everyone’s getting proper treatment. Don’t usually get into high speed jet ski chases with crooks trying to nab Milotic and Feebas, but when I do, I make sure everyone gets what they deserve.”

“Healing and jail time!”

“Healing and jail time.”

“You’re _amazing_.” Hop compliments, truly meaning it. He wasn’t aware gym leaders held that sort of responsibility. “Sonia does that sometimes, too.”

Nessa raises an eyebrow.

“Heal and jail people?”

“Yes—well, maybe not _jail people_ , but she _does_ heal Pokémon. She’s very passionate about it.I think you’d like her.”

That gets a genuine laugh out of Nessa, though it leaves Sonia sputtering.

“Don’t worry, I’m well aware.” Once her laughter wears off, she fully faces Sonia, her expression complicated. “I know she’s passionate about a lot of things. And I know she’s not usually one for ghosting her friends for years without good reason.”

Sonia flinches.

“I’m…I didn’t…” She takes a deep, shaky breath, her hands coming to clutch the bottom of her jacket. They’re trembling. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I’m _sorry_ , Nessa. I’m so _sorry_.”

“It would help if I knew what you were sorry about, but that’s as good a start as any.” Nessa smiles fondly. “You’ve…always been a little awkward about this kinda stuff.”

“I-I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know anything.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Will we?”

“If you’ll let me help.” Nessa holds her hand out. “Your head’s full enough as it is. Give me a share of what’s tumbling around in there.”

“Ness—“ Sonia’s voice cracks. Slowly but surely, she takes the proffered hand, holding onto it like a lifeline. “I’m _sorry_.”

“I know, Sonia. It’s okay.”

Deciding he’s done enough instigating for one day, Hop offers up his voluntary removal from the situation.

“I think I’ll go on ahead.”

Sonia’s head snaps to him.

“What? But—“

“I can find the champion and Raihan when I’m done.” He takes his phone out and waves it around. “I’ll call if anything.”

“I don’t think—“

“See you later!” Hop hurries off before Sonia can wiggle her way out of a conversation she clearly needs to have.

He’s not usually one for meddling.

But in this case, he doesn’t mind, especially if it’ll help Sonia gain an old friend back.

* * *

“Kiddo! Over here!”

Hop looks up from where he’s flipping through the pages upon pages of information he’s gathered.

It’s…a lot, even by his standards. He’s happy with it, though, and thinks it’ll help him out a lot with the material forthcoming in class.

He wasn’t aware Galarian seaweed had quite so many region specific properties about it, but now he _does_ and can list them out in detail should it ever be necessary.

He trots over to the gift shop, where Raihan’s tall form is indisputable.

“Hi.” He greets standoffishly. His chest feels tight. He thinks he knows why, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

“Hey.” Raihan grins. If it’s slightly off in response to Hop’s greeting, he doesn’t know. “How did your research go?”

“Fine.”

“Anything interesting?”

“…no.” Hop tucks his notebook under his arm, shuffling his feet. “Nothing interesting at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You’ll—It’s all boring. It’s not—No.”

Raihan’s grin falls.

“…Is everything all right?” He asks, brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Hop nods mechanically. “Where’s the cha—Where is _he_?”

“He’s trying to pick a hat—“ Typical. “—but Hop, if there’s something bothering you—“

“I’m going to find a souvenir for my friend.” He interrupts, walking off into a different corner of the shop.

There’s an unsettling feeling welling up within him. It’s familiar and rotten and as painful now as it was back _then_.

He doesn’t want to deal with it. He thought it was gone. That he did away with it the day he decided that he wouldn’t acknowledge a family that extended beyond his mother.

He thought.

Looks like he’s wrong.

 _Again_.

“Heya Hop!” The champion ambushes him, a novelty Shellder hat atop his head. It’s garish and ridiculous. In his arms, he holds a variety of different plush dolls. “Which one do you want? I’m getting a Lanturn.”

“I don’t want one.”

“C’mon! Pick one. I’m paying.”

“…the Mantyke, then.”

“Good choice! Mantyke it is!” He bustles off towards the register, making no effort to put the other dolls away.

Somehow, Hop has a feeling he’ll be getting many more plushies than just the Mantyke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please accept my one half emotionally repressed not yet in a relationship girlfriends I couldn’t help myself
> 
> also feel free to point out if the french is wrong. i used google translate and got about a million different ways to say everything please forgive me 🙏


	13. fractured heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a stormy day turns from bad to worse. a long-awaited confrontation between brothers brings new hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: for bullying and hop's pretty severe self-worth issues. a smidge of violence, but nothing graphic.

It’ll be a bad day.

Hop can feel it in his bones. A sensation, he imagines, not unlike that of when his mother would complain about her knee and how that assuredly meant torrential rain was to follow. It’s in the air, the threat of ill-tidings, ill-intent, ill- _something_.

The sheets of water pouring down from the heavens only exacerbate the sense of unease and foreboding Hop feels the moment his alarm goes off and he’s torn away from the grips of slumber.

It doesn’t help that his friendly neighborhood grouch of a Corvisquire doesn’t make an appearance.

Try as he might, Hop hasn’t been able to formulate a distinct pattern or schedule for the arrival of letters. They are erratic and unpredictable. Logically, he has no reason to believe one would or would not arrive today, but the distinct feeling that one _should have_ doesn’t leave him, no matter how much he tells himself he’s being ridiculous. As he’s preparing for the day, he keeps sneaking glances at the window, hoping to see a familiar avian form gliding into view, ready for a snack break and a peck at him or two.

None ever comes.

“Maybe it’s the rain.” He ponders aloud. Galahad rests his chin upon Hop’s hair. Gwin and Gwen tap curiously at the window, following the raindrops racing down the pane. “The wind’s strong, too. Maybe he stayed home?”

Galahad hums, translucent tail wrapping around Hop’s torso. Perhaps he can can sense his agitation. Is that another one of those special dragon powers Lulu says they have?

“I hope he’s not out there.” Hop says, idly running his fingertips over Galahad’s smaller ones. They’re clawed and can pack a mean scratch, but their cuteness is second to none. “Looks dangerous.”

He hasn’t heard thunder or seen any lighting, through the heaviness of the clouds suggest such occurrences are an inevitability.

Breakfast only seems to solidify his worries.

Raihan is silently contemplating a stack of burnt hotcakes when he arrives.

“Where’s that guy?”

Raihan jolts.

“What? Which guy?”

“The champ.” Hop clarifies, pouring a glass of milk for himself. He’s been thinking about his growth rate recently, and is of the opinion a few more inches are in order. The scientific basis lacks clear evidence, but it wouldn’t hurt to try and see if he can break Raihan’s whopping six foot eight stature. If the champion stands at a solid six four (information he received with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm from the man himself), that must mean he has a chance.

“He’s not here.”

“I know. Where is he?”

“I don’t _always_ have to know where he is, kid.” Raihan replies with an unprecedented amount of bite. “I’m not his _keeper_.”

Hop blinks, startled by the aggressiveness.

“Okay…?” He puts the jug of milk back, slightly stung. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you were. I was just wondering.”

“…Sorry.” Raihan takes a deep breath as Hop flops down onto a chair at the table. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—That wasn’t meant for—Do you want hotcakes?" He offers with a chagrined smile. “They’re pretty shit, but they’re all I can offer you at the moment.”

“I like them crispy.” Not coal-like, but they’ll have to do. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.” Raihan plates two for him and passes them along with a pitcher of syrup and a plate of fruit. He takes a seat across from him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s really not.”

“If it’s not, does that mean you’ll make it up to me?”

“And how would I do that?”

“With a _surprise_.” Hop decides after a moment’s contemplation. “Doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow. One day. When I’m least expecting it. Sonia used to do that for me. She’d give me gifts out of nowhere because she says surprises are the spice of life.”

“I can work with that.” Raihan smiles, and it really does look better on his face than a frown does. “You better watch out, little man. The Great Raihan is gonna out surprise the Amazing Professor Sonia. Just you wait.”

“Good luck. She’s a master.”

The conversation lulls into silence, the only sound Hop’s cutlery clacking against the plate. There’s something off, and he thinks he’s arrived at a reasonable conclusion.

Takes him a while, but he voices it.

“Did you two fight?”

Raihan’s eyes snap towards him.

“What makes you think that?”

“You two are always together in the morning.” Hop shrugs, drenching his breakfast in syrup. “And he would’ve mentioned if he was heading out early, ‘cause he likes telling me even if I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

Hop ignores the question.

“Am I wrong?” He asks instead. “Did you not?”

“Spot on as always, Hip-Hop.” Raihan admits. He sounds tired. There are bags under his eyes, now that Hop’s looking for them.

It’s not improbable. People are people. Even the best of friends get into arguments that make them burn hotcakes in the morning. Hop doesn’t have any experience with that, but he argued plenty with his mum, gotten huffy and curt with her, and he loved her a whole lot. It must be the same for friends. Maybe even rivals.

It’s a little odd for these two, though.

Hop peers out the doorway. He doesn’t see the Champion doing his usual pacing on the terrace as typical per their spats. Granted, it’s raining, though that’s never stopped him before.

“Do you…want to talk about it?" He ask hesitantly. Not that he especially wants to hear about what the champion most assuredly did to offend him. He’s only trying to understand why the gym leader looks so gloomy in weather that would normally place him in high spirits. “Don’t you usually say that’s good for people?”

“Ten year olds shouldn’t be bothered with grown up problems.”

“Grown ups shouldn’t act like ten year olds can’t help with their problems.”

“I _really_ shouldn’t have let you read that parenting book.”

“Like Professor Magnolia says.” Hop dunks a pecha berry into his syrup for emphasis and plops it into his mouth. “ _Was’ done i’ done_.”

“It’s not anything serious.” Raihan glumly taps at his phone screen. “It was stupid. A small thing. He said something that pissed me off and then _I_ said something back and then he got all—“ He rolls his eyes. “You know how he gets.”

“High and mighty champion mode.”

“He’s such an _ass_ sometimes.” Raihan rubs a hand over his face. “But yeah, he got like _that_ and it got me _madder_ so we fought and he left and that’s why you’re eating rocks right now.”

“They’re pretty good.” It’s not a lie per se. The flavor is lacking but Hop likes the crunchy texture. “He just left?”

“Last night.”

“ _Last night_?” That’s a surprise. Hop wasn’t aware of him leaving at any point. “And he didn’t come back?”

“Nope.”

“Wow. He must be mad.”

“He shouldn’t be. I wasn’t wrong.”

“What did you fight about?”

This is where Raihan becomes clearly discomforted. Hop saves him the trouble of having to explain himself. It’s not like he’d want anyone prying if he ever fought with Marnie over anything personal.

“Never mind. If you weren’t wrong, does that mean he was?”

“Yeah?"

“Are you sure? ‘cause my mum used to say that just because you’re right doesn’t mean that the other person isn’t.You could both have good points and you’re just not seein’ it because your head’s running hot.” Hop pauses, wondering if he may have disregarded that advice at any point. “I mean, I’ll believe you if you say he was being dumb and unreasonable, because that’s sorta what he _is_ —“

“—don’t say that, Hop—“

“But _was he_?” He looks Raihan straight in the eye. “Was he being dumb and unreasonable? Or was your head running hot?”

They both fall silent.

Raihan rests his chin on his hand, thinking. Hop keeps eating. The hotcakes really aren’t all that bad, though that could be him becoming accustomed to the taste. Either way, he snags a few more from the pile, along with even more syrup and a few more slices of apples and oranges.

Dee wanders in at one point, fretting over her trainer before scampering over to Hop’s side, eyes big and cute and pleading. Unable to resist, he feeds her a few fruit, much to her delight.

A happy Dee is a happy household.That’s what Hop likes to think anyway.

“…I don’t think I was wrong.” Raihan eventually concludes.

“Okay.” Hop runs his hand along one of Dee's tendrils. She trills, nipping at his forehead playfully.

“But I don’t think he was being as dumb and unreasonable to the extent that it seemed at the time.”

“So who was right?”

“Me mostly, but him partially.”

“Okay.” Hop nods. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Probably _not_ contact him.” Raihan leans back against his seat. “If he was mad enough to leave, I think he needs a lot more time to think things over, and since I’ve got work to do, that’ll distract me until he shows up again.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Of course he will. You’re here.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

The way it comes out is decidedly bitter. Hop doesn’t give it time to rest where he doesn’t want it to. He finishes off his plate and trots off to rinse it off. Dee helps him with drying, hugs him tight, and walks him to the door after he collects his things.

“Hop.” Raihan calls as he’s getting his shoes on. “Hop, _wait_.”

“What?” He inclines his head to show he’s listening.

“He’ll come back. I promise. He _will_. If it's for you, he _will_.”

Hop smiles. It’s twisted and morphed and all _wrong_ , but Raihan doesn’t know.

He’ll _never_ know.

“Of course he will.” Hop replies cheerfully, overcompensating for the toxic taste of what he really wants to say. “ _You’re_ here.”

The door firmly puts an end to that conversation, as it is wont to do.

* * *

“Why can’t ya blindfold a ‘mon?”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll _Pik—a—chu_.” Aided by her imaginary drum set, Marnie hits its imaginary cymbal and snare with her imaginary drumstick. “Badum _tss_.”

It gets a laugh out of Hop, although it’s more out of her deadpan delivery than the actual joke itself.

“Where did you learn than one?”

“From an ice lolly.” Marnie provides, setting Koko on her desk to properly pack her bag. They’re both getting ready to head home. “My bro brought some home the other day. They’ve got gags printed on the sticks. Thought you might like that one.”

“Got any more?”

“Let’s see…why’re Meowths scared o’ trees?”

“Why?”

“‘cause they’ve got _bark_.”

That gets another laugh out of him. Marnie’s humor can be a bit odd at times, but Hop appreciates its nonetheless. He thinks she’d make a good comedian with that stone faced manner of hers.

She tells him a few more, each worse than the one before, but Hop laughs, because being with Marnie always leaves him feeling light and refreshed. Even if the school day had been packed withnothing more than boring lessons and note-taking, it’s a lot more bearable when the person next to him is whispering all sorts of caustically sarcastic remarks and trying to convince her reckless Morpeko into not chewing on her homework.

“I can tell you more if you ever need ‘em.” Marnie offers. “Rather not have to, though, as long as your face looks like that.”

“Like how?”

“All sad.”

“It’s just the weather.”

“It doesn’t always have to be the weather, Hop.” Now Marnie looks sad, and it makes him feel _awful_. He’s really not good at this friend thing at all, is he? “You can be sad for a reason. I’ll listen to ya, if you want me to.”

“You don’t always have to worry about me.”

“Maybe not, but I want to, and there’s nothing you can do to make me _not_ want to, so you’ll just have to deal with it for the rest of forever. Think you can put up a fight that long? I’m warnin' ya. I’m tough.”

“I know.” Hop smiles. How can he _not_ smile when she says things like that? “You’re so tough, you’re definitely going to be the champion one day.”

“Sure am.” She puffs her chest out haughtily, Koko copying the pose in turn.

Hop can already see it. Her name in lights, all of Galar bowing to her as she brings in a new era of change and prosperity. He wonders if they’ll have a crown made for her. A cape would be too tacky, especially with someone of Marnie’s unique style. Maybe a cool trench coat?

Or maybe not. Now that he knows how…not fun a lot of the champion work is, should he still be supporting her dream? It makes him feel retched to think that, but he doesn’t want Marnie to be told how to dress or to be shoved into as many commercials as the league demands. Doesn’t want her attending boring, stuffy parties or throwing her phone down a cliff because she wants a little peace and quiet.

He doesn’t want her abandoning her family for _that_.

Just when he thinks he’s about to blurt that out against his better judgement and ruin Marnie's dream, the distinct feeling of something bouncing off the back of his head has him wincing, head jerking forward instantly. A group of loud gasps follow.

“ _Ow!_ ” He exclaims, clutching his head as whatever hit him falls to the floor, rebounding against it.

“Are you okay?” Marnie’s instantly at his side, one hand on his shoulder, the other hovering over the back of his head. “Is it bleeding? Can you see?”

“I’m fine. Just hurt is all.” Hop glances down at the offending object, eyes narrowing when he finds a decent sized ball, colored red and white to resemble a Pokéball.

“Are you all right, Hop?” Sophie bounds over from the front of the room, her face somehow coming across both intensely red and deathly pale. “Oh my goodness, are you okay?” She whirls around, glaring daggers at the student nonchalantly leaning against his desk. “That was on _purpose_! You hit him on _purpose_ , Dennis!”

“No, I didn’t!” The boy scowls, arms crossed against his chest. “It’s his fault he didn’t see it coming! He’s always spacing out!”

“It’s fine.” Hop mutters, handing her the ball. It hurt, but at least it’s not a rock. That might’ve actually been a problem. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But…” Sophie looks torn. Despite their bickering, Hop knows she and Dennis are friends, and that she’s too kind to do anything but admonish him for his actions. That’s fine by him. He doesn’t want to ruin their friendship. It’s best if he keep her out of whatever feud Dennis has felt it necessary to instill between them.

“It’s fine.” He repeats, forcing a smile. “You’re not supposed to play with these in the classroom, you know.”

“As long as the teachers are around, maybe.” She grins cheekily, before remembering why they’re having this conversation, and frowns. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to go to the infirmary?”

“I’m fine.” He repeats again. It’s getting old. How many more times is he going to have to say that? “Marnie and I are going home now.”

And that’s what they set out to do. Hop zips up the last of his belongings, Marnie grabs Koko, and they walk across the classroom, heading towards the door to leave.

But some people can’t leave well enough alone.

Some people push and push and _push_ for the sake of it. To see how far they can go until they can see a crack, a fissure, a gap. All because they _can_. Because it’s fun to test others that way. To see what it takes for them to finally push back.

Hop’s never pushed back. He’s never felt it necessary. Never been in a position where pushing back would bring him anything exceptmore hurt and pain and rocks to the back and dunks in the river and ripped notebooks and words as sharp as knives, digging and digging and _digging_ into him because he’s not enough. He’s never enough. Why can’t he be enough? Why can’t he just _be—_

The ball hits his head a second time. Marnie flinches, catching him mid-stumble, Koko trying her darnedest to help steady him.

“ _Dennis_!” Sophie shrieks. “ _Stop_!”

“Why?” Dennis drawls. “I don’t wanna.”

“You’re hurting him!”

“So what? He can just run home to the champion and ask him to kiss his booboo. Isn’t that a good thing?” Dennis sneers. “He’s got the champion around to make everything better. Isn’t that right, Hop? You’re not strong like him, so you gotta go home and cry and ask him to make everything better."

When Hop doesn't respond, he trudges on with his verbal attack.

"You’re a pansy. That’s why you never say anything. What the heck’s the champion think when he sees you? I don’t even get how you two are brothers. Are you? Or are you lying and pretending ‘cause you think everyone’ll like you more and treat you like him? Too bad, they _won’t_ , ‘cause you’re not the champion. You’re just a dumb sissy who won’t fight back ‘cause he’s scared!”

“Don’t listen to him, Hop.” Marnie whispers, clutching his shoulders. “He doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know, Hop. He _doesn’t know_.”

“What, is the quiet girl gonna defend you now?” Dennis keeps on _going_ , against Sophie’s begging that he stop. “Gonna get her ‘mon to zap me? She can’t even talk right. What kinda order is she gonna give it if she can’t _talk_?”

Hop’s fists clench. His heart is beating a mile a minute, but he’s ready to leave. To walk off. To forget this and pretend it didn’t happen. It’s easier to do that. He doesn’t want trouble. He’s never wanted trouble. He just wants to be left alone. He wants Marnie to be left alone. That’s all he _wants_ —

But then Dennis scoffs.

And says exactly what he needs to say to finally get a reaction from him.

“That’s why you’re such a pansy, Hop. You get everyone to do things for you. Instead of the champion, why don’t you go cry home to your mummy? She’s prolly just like you. Weak and stupid and weird and _dumb_.”

The room is quiet.

All of the surrounding children are looking on in silence. Sophie looks horrified. Marnie is staring at the floor, her hands tight on his shoulders.

Hop takes a shaky breath.

Gently, he removes Marnie’s hands from him, squeezing them softly. Gratefully. He pats the now violet hued Koko on her head and turns around.

Expression and voice deceptively calm, he speaks.

“What did you say?” Hop asks, setting his bag on the floor.

Dennis sneers.

“What? Ya got wax in your ears?”

“Repeat yourself please.” Hop demands calmly, his steps quiet yet firm. He stops a few paces away from the boy, countenance lacking any emotion. “I didn’t get that.”

“I _said_ —“ Dennis says slowly, patronizingly. “That you should go cry to your mummy, ‘cause she’s stupid and weird and _dumb_. Oh, and _weak_.” He tacks that last part on with a smirk, as if he’s _clever_.

“Right.” Hop nods. “That’s what I thought you said.”

Another tense silence.

Dennis shifts on his feet.

“So what’re you gonna—“

And _that’s_ where Hop loses any semblance of the control he once had.

He _lunges_ , tackling Dennis to the floor. The other boy screams as Hop slaps him across the face, pulling his hair and hitting hitting _hitting_. It feels _horrible_ and he wants to _stop_ but all he can see is red. All he can feel is rage and fury and _pain_ and _his mother his mother how dare he say that about his mother—_

He vaguely hears the other children screaming, Sophie screeching for a teacher down the hall. He feels arms wrapping themselves around his waist and pulling, the sound of Marnie's voice in his ears.

“Stop it, Hop!” She begs, voice hoarse. She isn’t used to speaking so loudly, not without Koko and certainly not in front of so many people. “Please _stop_! You’re better than this! He doesn’t know anything! Hop, _please_!”

Hop doesn’t stop. He can’t. How can this boy stand there and say all those terrible things? He doesn’t know _anything_. He doesn’t know how strong his mother was. How smart and brave and wonderful she was. How she fought with everything she had until her very last moments. He doesn’t know what it was like _to be_ _there_ , minutes before she breathed her last as she _smiled_ at Hop and—

There’s a commotion. Someone comes in. A teacher from a neighboring class. An adult of some kind. He doesn’t really know. But he knows that he’s being pulled off and dragged across the room.

Dennis is crying now. Hop is too furious to feel guilty about the smug thought of _well who’s the pansy now_ entering his head before someone’s yelling at him and demanding he explain himself.

“How dare you put your hands on him?” There are a few teachers surrounding Dennis, his own included. When did they get there? Hop’s hands hurt. Where’s Marnie? Oh. She’s hugging him. She’s crying, too. Oh no. He didn't want to make her cry. He’s still angry. He still wants to hit Dennis. Why are they mad at him? What time is it? Where’s Koko?

“What on Earth did he do?” Another teacher asks, trying to get the brat to stop bawling.

“He—He was bullying Hop!” Sophie pipes up, tears pouring from her eyes. “H-He hit him with his ball and started saying awful things about him and his family—“

Oh right.

“DON’T YOU EVER—“ Hop snarls, voice echoing around the classroom with a force he didn’t think himself capable of. “ _EVER_. SAY _ANYTHING_ ABOUT MY _MOTHER_.”

“W-W-Wh-Why _shou-sh-shouldn’t I-I-I—!_ ” Dennis weakly replies, hiccuping, snot all over his face.

“BECAUSE SHE’S _DEAD._ ” Hop curses his for voice cracking, for the tears that well up in his eyes. Dennis freezes up, and so do the teachers, and the rest of the class. Even Marnie does, though she doesn’t let go of him. Only holds him tighter, her soft sobs muffled into his blazer. “Don’t…Don’t you _ever_ say _anything_ about her. You don’t have the _right_.”

Hop doesn’t remember much after that.

All he knows is that Marnie gets told to go home, his fingers get bandaged up by the nurse, Dennis won’t stop bloody _crying_ and he somehow lands himself in the head’s office.

* * *

“I—Yes, I’m Hop’s guardian. Leon…Yes, that’s our surname. I got a call—?”

Hop sinks further in his seat at the voice he hears beyond the door.

The head eyes him oddly, her rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She looks tired. He guesses this isn’t exactly anything she wants to deal with, especially at the end of the day when she should be home doing whatever a head does at home. Drink tea and read books, maybe? That’s what the Professor does. Sonia, too.

Earlier, Dennis’s mum had arrived. In a flurry, she checked in and rushed into the office. Over an hour later, she and her son strode out of the room, the latter looking thoroughly chastised while the former looked nothing short of exhausted.

Hop avoided looking at his classmate, although his mother did catch his eye and offer a discreetly mouthed ‘ _I’m so sorry_ ’ before they left.

She looked tired, too. Maybe she’s tired like Hop is. Like the head. Like his own mum was.

Maybe everyone’s tired.

The door clicks open. Hop keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. He’s really regretting his actions now. He wishes he could go back in time and just go home and _not_ pummel Dennis’s face in like he totally deserved. He was hoping the Champion would take even longer than he had, a full _two hours_ (no wonder the head looks tired) to arrive. Being forgotten would actually have been _nice_ for once.

“Ch-Champion Leon?” The head says, flustered. She schools her expression into a more professional one in seconds, but Hop’s already seen it. May as well prepare for what’s to come. “I—Good afternoon. Thank you for coming.”

“I don’t think this is anything I ever wanted to be called in for, but likewise.” The champion shakes her hand and seats himself on the only other available chair. Hop can feel him looking at him and refuses to acknowledge it. “What’s this about a physical altercation…?”

“It’s a rather difficult situation—” Hop snorts at her wording. “Some, ah, rather personal remarks were made against his person. To say he took them badly is the least of it.”

“He _hit_ someone?”

“He was goaded into it, from what was confessed and what was reported, but yes that is the short of it. He laid his hands on another student.”

“Hop—“ The champion turns to him fully. Hop doesn’t look at him. He refuses to, he _won’t_ — “This isn’t like you at all. Why would you do that? Why—Are you _sure_ it was him? Is there any evidence? Someone could be framing him.”

“Look at his hands, sir.”

The champion reaches over and tugs one towards him, letting out a quiet breath at the sight of his bandages. “Oh, _Hop_ …”

“We do not condone this sort of behavior at Hammerlocke Prep.” The head says plainly. “Whatever the reason may be, physical violence is against our policy. If he is unable to adhere to our rules, we will be forced to strip him of his seat.”

Hop’s head snaps up at that. The champion leans forward in this seat.

“What?” He exclaims, outraged. “This is the first time he's ever gotten in trouble. Who’s to say it’ll happen again?”

“Nobody can, but we will _not_ accept any behavior that places our students in harm’s way on school grounds.” She frowns. "I’m aware Hop has transferred from Southern Galar, and perhaps they may be more _lenient_ with this conduct. However—“

“That bears no relevance on this issue.” The champion cuts her off forcefully. Hop glances over at him. His vibrant golden eyes are steely and intense, a firm frown on his face. He looks _angry_. It almost offsets how throughly drenched he is. His hair is plastered against his skin, his clothing damp and dripping. Was he outside the entire time he was gone? “The children of Southern Galar are in no way inferior or less educated, if that’s what you’re implying. Hop’s background isn’t _anything_ to be looked down upon.” He sneers, and it looks so _odd_ on him Hop can’t help but watch in wonder. “What _I_ want to know is why another student was allowed to goad him into hurting them in the first place.”

“Sir—“

“I _understand_ what he did was wrong, but Hop is the brightest, most well-behaved student in this school, and likely in the _entirety_ of Galar. For him to physically harm someone else says more about the environment this institution is condoning and absolutely _nothing_ about the content of his character.” He sighs in a put upon manner, folding one ankle over the other, as if _he_ is the headmaster and _she_ is the unruly student. It’s something only he could pull off, Hop thinks. “I was under the impression Hammerlocke Preparatory was the most premier school in Hammerlocke. In the region as a whole. However, if my brother is incapable of feeling safe and secure here, I will be more than willing to transfer him elsewhere. Where he can receive a _quality_ education—which, mind you, _isn’t_ the case _at all_ your lessons leave a lot to be desired—and not be forced to defend himself from harm because the instructors are too blind to see what’s happening right under their noses.” The champion leans back in his seat, jutting his chin out. “I'm sure you understand I _don’t_ want to do that, but for my family’s safety, I will do all that I can. Should it be necessary, I am not above informing Lord Speaker Raihan of this, and having him issue a formal investigation into your curriculum and teaching practices for the sake of every impressionable student attending. Now, if you don't mind, please explain to me _why_ this was allowed to escalate as far as it did?”

The head stares, speechless. Hop would feel smug, but all he can think of is what Dennis said, about running to the champion to fix everything for him.

Isn’t that exactly what’s happening?

Hop doesn’t pay attention to the rest. He assumes they arrive to an agreement, with the way she shakes the champion’s hand and he demands proper changes be implemented. By the time they’re walking out of the office, Hop is exhausted. All he wants to do is go home and bury himself in his blankets. A week’s suspension is hardly anything to scoff at, but he just doesn’t care anymore. His hands hurt. And it’s storming outside to boot.

“Think we should wait it out?” The champion asks, tugging Hop’s bag over his shoulder. The school yard stretches in front of them, devoid of any students for once. Rain bounces against the concrete. The intensity of its fall has already fully saturated the grass, streams of water escaping off the sides into the drainage systems allocated specifically for them. “I think we should. Visibility’s not too great and Artie’s no good in the rain.”

Hop doesn’t reply.

They stand in silence, the only sound precipitation crashing onto the Earth, the faint echo of thunder audible.

“Wanna play a game?” The champion suggests. “How about I Spy? I’m pretty good at it.”

“…”

“No? What about…fire—water—grass? I’m warning you. I only ever pick fire.”

“…”

“Not that either? Maybe—?”

“Please stop.” Hop requests quietly. “Please.”

The champion blinks, but relents.

It’s quiet once again. There’s lightning now. Then thunder. Or maybe the other way around. Who knows. It’s a storm, either way.

“…What did they say?”

Hop stares straight ahead.

“What did they say.” The champion repeats. It’s not a question. It’s not anything. He sounds tired. Why is everyone so tired? “Hop, I need you to tell me what they said. You wouldn’t—You don’t hurt people. You don’t do this.”

“Maybe I do.”

“You _don’t_.” The champion faces him, fists clenched. Hop watches him from the corner of his eye. He looks upset. Maybe it’s because Hop’s causing trouble. Maybe he wouldn’t be upset if Hop wasn’t causing trouble. Maybe he’d be happier if Hop wasn’t around at all. “You don’t hurt others. Not like this. What did they _say_ , Hop. Why would you get into a fight like this? I don’t understand.”

“I’m not _asking_ you to.” Hop says through gritted teeth. “It doesn’t matter. Forget it.”

“Absolutely not. What did they say.”

“It doesn’t matter—“

“Tell me Hop.“

“ _No._ “

“ _Hop_ —“

“ _Why do you even care_ —“

“Because we’re _brothers_ , Hop!” The champion cries out. “Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“ _Why is that so easy for you to say_!” Hop screams, rounding on him. “We’re _not_! We’ve _never_ been! You _left!”_

 _"_ You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 _“_ What are _you_ going on about _?_ You’ve never been around and you want me to act like everything’s okay? Do you want me to act like you haven’t been gone since I can remember? That you forgot I even _existed_?”

“I never—“

“ _Yes you did!_ ” Hop shrieks. “You _forgot!_ You never cared about me! And you never cared about mum! All you care about is _yourself_ and your stupid _battles_ and your stupid _stadium_ and your stupid _Raihan_ who’s always defending you when you don’t deserve it! Mum was dying and you never showed up because you’re _selfish_!”

“I didn’t know she was sick.” The champion respond levelly, expression closed off. “I didn’t know, Hop. If I did, I would have—“

“No, you _wouldn’t_ have.” Hop laughs caustically. What a _joke_. “Don’t lie. You wouldn’t have. You would’ve never considered it. You showed up because she told you to, didn’t you? What did she say? _Please look after Hop for me. I don’t think I’ll be able to do it anymore_.” The champion winces. Bullseye. “Yeah, I thought so. You felt _guilty_ , because as long as you were in Wyndon, you could pretend neither of us existed. You never stopped to think about us at all. It wasn’t about taking care of me. It wasn’t about doing right by her. It was about not feeling _guilty_ , because champions shouldn’t have to feel guilty about _anything_. Why should you ever have to take responsibility for anything that you do? You’re a—“

“Stop it.” The champion holds up his hand. The calm he’s attempting to hold is so _irritating_ and _infuriating_ and Hop _just wants to_ — “Stop, Hop. You don’t know _anything_.”

Ah.

“…I guess not, Champion Leon. I don’t know anything at all. I’m just a stupid kid. No wonder you never wanted me around.” Hop agrees. He faces the rain again, letting out a soft laugh.

“You wanted to know what he said, didn’t you? I’ll tell you, if it’ll help you sleep better tonight and forget tomorrow. He told me that I’m nothing like you. That I’m a pansy. That I go crying to you over everything. That you must be ashamed of me and that we must not actually be brothers. That I’m pretending because I want people to love me like they love you, but they won’t, because I’m just a dumb sissy.” Hop ignores the champion’s intake of breath. “Don’t worry about that, though. Everyone in Wedgehurst and Postwick used to tell me the same thing. It’s not a big deal. He even hit me a few times with his ball, but that’s nothing. Rocks hurt way worse. And it’s not like he tried drowning me in a river, or tore up my notes or anything. This is nothing. What bothered me was that he insulted my mother. That’s why I hurt him. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t—I _didn’t_ — _Nobody_ has ever done that before. I hit him because he shouldn’t be speaking about things he doesn’t understand, but maybe I deserve the same. I don’t understand anything, after all. I don’t know anything. I’m s-stupid and d-dumb and w-w-weird and _weak_. I’m the _worst_.” He laughs as tears fall unbidden from his eyes. “The one thing I had, the o-one thing I could maybe work with, and he didn’t even give me that. I-I’m not even allowed to be your _brother_.”

“But maybe that’s for the best.” Hop’s smile is twisted beyond recognition, his eyes dull and hollow. “Maybe I don’t deserve anything. Maybe I should just go back with Sonia. She’s never compared us. She’s never been cruel to me. She’s never ignored or abandoned me. I’ve always wondered why I couldn’t have been born as her brother. Maybe then we could be together now and I wouldn’t be in your way. I should just go back to her. She’s the only person left who loves me, anyway.”

Hop starts forward into the rain, sneakers splashing against the pavement. For every call of his name, he only gets faster and faster until he’s sprinting, heart drumming in his ears, lungs on fire, tears obstructing his vision.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he counts it as a blessing that the champion’s problems with walking in a straight line save him the trouble of thinking too hard on it. It isn’t long before Hop evades his sight, barreling onward through Hammerlocke’s empty roads. There’s nobody around. That’s fine. He doesn’t want to be seen. He wants to go far, far away, where the champion won’t have to clean up his messes and be ashamed of his existence.

Where to go, though?

Definitely not the stadium. And definitely not with Sonia. Even if all he wants to do is crawl into her arms and have her hold and comfort and tell him everything will be all right, that she loves him and she’ll take care of him and that she’ll be his sister and he won’t ever have to think about the champion ever again, he doesn’t want to burden her. She’s always worrying over him. He doesn’t want to bother her.

He doesn’t want her to hate him.

Where to go, though? Where won’t he be found? Where won’t anyone look?

_The wild area. That’s where wild Pokémon live and where I usually train my team. It’s pretty dangerous though, so I’d rather you avoid it until you’re ready_

_I’m not planning on going_

That’s it.

Changing course, Hop heads for the iconic dragon’s mouth.

Maybe he’d end up chasing a Bunnelby into a hole and wake up somewhere where he’s actually wanted.

* * *

_Rocks hurt way worse._

_And it’s not like he tried drowning me in a river._

_I’m stupid and dumb and weird and weak._

_I’m the worst._

_She’s the only person left who loves me, anyway._

Stupid.

He’s been so _stupid_. The _stupidest_ person alive.

So stupid so stupid so stupid so _stupid_.

How could he not have noticed that? _Any_ of that?

Leon knew it might be a problem, being the brother of the “ _Great Champion”._ He expected Hop to complain about the occasional teasing or comparisons. Kid stuff. Childish words he could put behind him and forget as soon as they were said.

_Rocks hurt way worse._

Arceus, _rocks_? How badly had they _hurt_ him? How much has Hop endured? How long has he suffered in silence, brushing everything off because it couldn’t be helped? Had the same words repeated to him over and over again? Why on Earth would he bother to argue against them if nothing he did or said would change anything? If he would always be the lesser brother. The one in the shadows.

The one who doesn’t matter.

How could Leon not have realized just how much his own little brother was hurting?

How long has he felt this way?

How long has he hated himself?

How long has Leon been blissfuly unaware as to how much of raging _dumbass_ he is?

Too long. Way too long.

He needs to fix this.

Not patch it up with pretty words. Not slap a bandaid over it and call it a day. Not ham up his stupid fucking champion persona and hope Hop would buy into it when not even _he_ did.

He needs to be a _big brother_. For _once_.

Leon tosses out the oldest Pokéball of the bunch. It’s raining and his trusted companion is sure to be angry about getting drenched, but there’s no time for fretting over the small stuff.

“Arthur please.” He begs as the Charizard materializes. “I need you to get me to the stadium. I don’t know where I’m going and—“ Thunder claps above them, followed by lightning. Panic sets in. “I-I don’t know where Hop is. I need to check the stadium. Take me there. _Please_.”

The moment Hop’s name leaves his mouth, Arthur’s already preparing for flight. He’s not usually one for blatantly wearing his affections on his sleeves, but it’s no secret his little brother’s earned a special place in the ever serious Arthur’s heart, along with the rest of his and Raihan’s ‘mons. It’s a comfort, especially now, where Leon’s mucked everything up enough to warrant their help with un-mucking it up.

They take off with haste.

It’s a fierce ride. The storm isn’t helping. The wind whips Leon’s hair into his face and water keeps blurring his vision. Despite that, Hammerlocke Stadium is an imposing sight. It’s not difficult to spot even during a torrential downpour. Arthur’s a keen shot, too. There’s no place he can’t manage to navigate himself, weather conditions and type-disadvantage be _damned_.

Leon leaps off his back the moment they’re hovering over the terrace, tearing the glass doors open. He’s pretty sure the lock’s going to need fixing, but that’s secondary to what really matters.

“ _Hop_!” He yells, barging in and making the biggest mess of water on the pinewood floors. Raihan’s crew is gathered in front of the television, cuddled up in blankets and pillows. His current state shocks them into action. “Have any of you seen Hop? Has he come back at any point? Have you sensed him? _Anything?_ ”

They shake their heads.

Leon rushes towards Hop’s room and slams the door open. Nothing.

He scavenges the kitchen, Raihan’s room, the bathroom, the guest room, _everywhere_.

Nothing.

The entrance door opens. Raihan appears, his timing impeccable, a bag full of boxes in his hands. They may be cake but Leon’s not sure. He’s too busy trying not to give into the panic threatening to overwhelm him.

“Rai!” Leon yells, startling him into nearly dropping his keys.

“Lee?” Raihan blinks, taking in his appearance. “What are you— _Why_ are you—“

“Have you seen Hop? Is he here? I can’t find him and he’s not _here_ and I don’t know where he is and what if he’s _hurt_ what if he’s _lost_ and _alone_ and _scared_ what have I _done_ I’m a _monster_ —“

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ , hold up.” Raihan runs in and tosses the bag onto the kitchen counter before coming to grip Leon’s shoulders in an attempt to ground him. “ _Slow down_. Take it easy. What’s going on?”

“Hop!” Leon clutches his head with both hands. “He had a fight at school. Some little shit was _bullying_ _him._ “

“ _What?_ "

While Raihan’s outrage is very much appreciated and an extension to how he feels, Leon cuts him off before he can get too worked up.

“They called me in to deal with it and when we left we got into a big argument and he ran away and I can’t _find him_. I tried to follow but directions and me and I _lost_ _him_ and I’m the _worst,_ Rai. I failed him in every way and now he thinks _nobody loves him and—_ “

“You need to _relax_ , Leon.”

“ _Don’t fucking tell me to relax!_ “ He roars, baring his own teeth. “ _Do you have any idea what could happen to him?_ He could be in _danger_ for all we know and I’m sitting here like a _fucking idiot_ —”

“Freaking _the fuck out_ won’t find him!” Raihan yells back, effectively silencing him. “Fuckin’ _chill_ , all right? We’ll find him. Just stay fucking calm.” He pulls out his phone. “I’m gonna put out an alert all right? Get the officers on it. Rangers, too. While I do that, think about where he could have gone.”

“I already checked—“

“—You know him better than you think you do, Lee.” Raihan interrupts. “Think. Where could he go where he knows you would never look? He was angry enough to run off—“ He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘ _must run in the family._ ’ “—so he obviously doesn’t want you to find him. Where would you least expect him to be? And how far could he have gotten on foot? He doesn’t have any Pokémon, so rule out any long distances. He could have gone to the station, but last I heard, he spent all his money on rubber balls for Flo. Taxis are a negative too, given the weather. This is Hop we’re talking about. _Where_ Leon? _Think_.”

Where?

Where?

 _Where_?

Where could Hop have gone?

A place Leon wouldn’t think to check. A place he would normally have no reason to visit, and would only venture towards if he wanted to get away from his dummy of a brother. Maybe a place that he hates. Maybe a place Hop doesn’t necessarily know all too well.

Nearby enough to get to, but an odd enough choice for his dumb, oblivious brother to never think about.

A place like…

Realization dawns on him.

“I know where he is.”

Raihan grins.

“Wild area?”

“Ye—Wait, if you knew, why d’you make me think about it?”

“You’ve gotta earn things yourself every once in a while.” Raihan rolls his eyes. “They’ve got a group heading out there right now. Are you going after—“

“Arthur! Wings out!”

The mighty Charizard roars, the rest of the Pokémon following suit.

 _Wait for me Hop_ , Leon thinks. _Wait just a little longer_.

* * *

Maybe hiding out in the Wild Area wasn’t such a good idea…

It hadn’t taken much to sneak past the league officials stationed by the stairs. A quick jump off the side and into the bushes worked well enough, the rain and wind doing the rest of the job as Hop frantically took off into the wilderness.

Which, again, might not have been a good idea.

By the time his head cleared up enough for him to properly begin realizing the ramifications of his actions, he was knee deep in forest brush, soaked to the bone and completely lost. Tall trees loomed over him, encapsulating the land in a deep, eerie darkness. The only light to illuminate his way were a few stray crackles of lightning that managed to breach the thick tree tops.

The storm hadn’t let up in its ferocity, which is how Hop’s found himself huddled within the nearest crevice he could find, carved into a craggy, jagged mountainside. He’s sat against the uncomfortably rocky wall, knees drawn up to his chest, chin resting upon them as he stares blankly out at the mess a few feet away from him. Usually, a little stormy weather could help put him to sleep, the measured cadence of rain pattering against the rooftops a relaxing noise to unwind to.

This isn’t relaxing at all. For every crash of thunder he jolts. For every flash of lightning he winces, and prays they’ll keep their distance. Fortunately, he hasn’t run into any rabid Pokémon hoping to take a bite out of him for encroaching on their territory, though that could change at any moment. He knows certain species prefer a stormy night for emerging from their dens to search for prey. He could only hope he wouldn’t be on the menu.

Hop sighs shakily, curling further in on himself. He’s freezing, his teeth are chattering, and he’s soaked to the bone.

Talk about a bad spot. He’s really mucked things up this time, hasn’t he? His RotomPhone isn’t even on him. He can’t call anyone for help, can’t even tell Marnie to remember him fondly, for all that he was a poor example of a friend.

He wonders how she is. He hopes she’s nice and cozy inside, with her family. Not worrying about Hop’s disgraceful behavior. He wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to be friends with him anymore. Not even being the champion’s brother could fix that horrid display he put on in front of her.

Speaking of the champion.

Hop imagines he’s already back at the stadium, warm and toasty with Raihan, the two probably sharing a cup of cocoa while laughing about how nice it is not to carry Hop’s weight around anymore.

Maybe everyone else feels the same, too. Maybe Arthur is glad he won’t have to share his favorite spot on the sofa. Maybe Lulu is relieved he won’t have to clean up after him. Flo’s probably tearing his room apart and Dee’s getting herself a new surrogate baby to coddle. Galahad’s likely already claimed his bed for himself, Gwin and Gwen shredding through all his shoelaces and clothes. Mordred’s probably thrown all the accessories Hop’s gotten her into the trash. Why would she want to keep anything he’s given her?

They’ve probably forgotten all about him. That’s all Hop’s ever been good at.

Being forgettable.

He sniffles, wiping his eyes with his damp sleeve. He’s cold. His legs hurt. His chest hurts. He’s probably going to come down with something after this.

He wants to go home.

He wants his _mum_.

Hop looks at his hands. The bandages wrapped around his fingers are soggy and coming undone, torn from when he was stumbling his way through the forest. He tears them off out of frustration. They’re hardly hurt enough to warrant them, but the nurse had been insistent. Why would she waste her time on him anyway? Dennis was the one who bore the brunt of his rampage.

Honestly, what kind of monster was Hop? Just because someone said bad things about him didn’t give him the right to attack them like that. Marnie was right. He should have been the bigger person. Should have walked straight home and ignored him. How was he supposed to know Hop’s mum was dead?

She’s probably ashamed of him, now that he thinks about it. Of what he’s done. Of what he’s doing now, cowering in a cave. The thought turns his insides to ice and makes him want to retch. After all her letters, Hop still hasn’t learned a _thing_.

He’s so dumb so dumb so _dumb_.

He wishes he had his phone. It’d be nice to know how long he’s been sitting here, freezing his buns off. It feels like it’s been hours. It’s dark enough to be the dead of night, though the weather makes it difficult to distinguish whether he’s correct or not.

Hop’s cold. He wishes he had a blanket.He wishes Arthur were here. His temperature always runs blazing hot, his scaly skin warm to the touch. Hop’s gotten used to huddling close to him whenever they share the sofa. He’s always been so kind and accommodating with him.

Hop never deserved it. He’s never done anything to deserve it. How could he when he clearly remembers vehemently _hating_ him.

He remembers watching the Charizard on television the few times he allowed himself to tune into the champion’s matches. Remembers the flames and fury. Remembers how the crowd would cheer and he would roar and how the champion, a few years younger, would smile and laugh and bestow his beloved companion with affection Hop never once experienced for himself. How he would gaze upon all his Pokémon with the attention Hop was never _once_ gifted.

And then his mum would catch him, and she’d get this _look_ on her face, and Hop would change the channel or shut the telly off and ask if they could make biscuits or work in her garden or do _anything else_ to distract her, because in those moments all he could see in her eyes was _Leon_ even though _Hop_ was right _there_.

It’s probably best he not return. Arthur, Mordred, and Galahad. They deserve more than a boy who used to spitefully hope for their downfall. More than a boy who’s petty and nasty and _mean._

He should stay right here, where it’s cold and lonely.

“Wonder if my fingers’ll fall off…” He murmurs, flexing them. It’s painful. That has to be a bad sign. Even his toes are starting to cramp up from the chill. His shivering is getting worse. His teeth won’t stop chattering.

He really wishes Arthur were here. What he wouldn’t give to feel his warmth one last time.

A sudden stream of hot air tickles his skin.

Yeah, exactly like that.

It happens again. And again.

And again.

Hop opens his eyes.

A big, familiar Charizard is crouched in front of him, jaw hanging open, a steady flow of hot air escaping his mouth.

“…Oh no. I’m _hypothermic_.” Hop says in a troubled voice. That’s one of the symptoms, isn’t it? Feeling warmer despite the fact that his body is steadily shutting down? He’s not sure if imagining up Charizards is another symptom. He probably should have read more about it. 

"Is that you, Arthur?” He asks. The vision grunts. Hop takes that as a yes. "Figures I’d see you in my last moments.”

Deciding he’s got nothing left to lose, Hop lets his mouth blabber off his last regrets.

“I think I owe you the most apologies.” He admits, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry I hated you up until recently. I’m sorry I kept having nightmares about you burning down our house and flying away with the champion. I’m sorry I kept hoping you’d lose. I’m sorry I used to draw pictures of you just so I could shred them. I’m sorry you’re the reason I’ve hated Pokémon for so long.”

Arthur moves closer. The droplets of water on his skin are sizzling from the heat of his body temperature. He tugs Hop forward, wrapping his wings around him.

It all feels so _real_. Is that another symptom of hypothermia?

“You’re so warm.” Hop whispers, snuggling into his grip. It’s almost like they’re back at the stadium, watching the telly while Mordred tries her darnedest to get on Arthur’s last nerve. It’s comforting. Maybe hypothermia isn’t such a bad thing if it can make him feel that way. “I’m sorry I was scared of you when we first met. I’m sorry I didn’t want anything to do with you. I’m sorry I’m so mean.” His teeth stop chattering. “…You want to know something interesting? My favorite color is orange. There are different reasons for it. I like oranges, and Sonia’s hair, and sunsets. Orange was my mum’s favorite color, because she loved Ho-oh a lot. We used to have orange cosmos and lilies, too. Tulips and hyacinths and daisies. We had so many orange flowers.” Arthur whips his tail in front of him, its embers crackling. Hop raises his hands to hover over the flame at the ‘mon’s insistence. "But the main reason I like orange is because of _you_. I used to want a Charizard, too. Even though I hated you, I wanted a Charizard of my own. I wanted to know why the champion loved you more than me. There had to be reason. Maybe if I had one of you, I would get it, and I could stop hating you, but that never happened, so I never stopped. I think I still do. Just a little bit.” Hop inclines his head. “I’m…I’m horrible, aren’t I? The worst. You’ve never done anything to me and I hated you. Doesn’t that make you angry? Don’t you hate me? I wouldn’t blame you. I hate me, too.”

Instead of incinerating him to a crisp or being annoyed or letting go or doing anything remotely close to what Hop expects, Arthur blows a stream of smoke into his face.

Hop coughs and hacks and fervently rubs his hands over this eyes, feeling steadily returning to them.

“What was _that_ for?” He demands, unable to keep the whine from his voice. “That wasn’t nice!”

Arthur’s horns twitch. He lets out a low growl, closing his wings even more firmly around him.

“You...You don’t care?” A nod. “You think I’m being silly?” Another affirmative. “You don’t hate me?”

To punctuate his point, Arthur bites his cheek. It doesn’t hurt. It’s a harmless nip.

“You don’t?” Hop asks quietly, pleading. “You mean it? Y-You really don’t?”

Arthur shakes his head, resting his chin upon Hop’s head.

He’s real. He’s really _real_. Hop _isn’t_ freezing to death.

Arthur came looking for him.

But if he’s here, then that must mean—

“ _Artie_!” A familiar voice echoes from beyond the brush. “Y’there? Did you find him?” There’s rustling, a few muffled curses. Another clap of thunder. Another strike of lightning.

Then—

Someone tumbles out of the greenery.

“ _Art_!” They yell, glancing around briefly before their eyes fall upon the crevice, dimly lit by Arthur’s tail flame.

“…Hop.” The champion murmurs softly, his voice barely audible above the the sound of the rain crashing down upon him. He stumbles into the crevice, dropping to his knees before him. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Hop slowly pulls himself off of Arthur, angling his body away from them both.

“I was halfway to Motostoke before my gut told me to turn around. It’s a good thing I sent Artie ahead. He’s good at this kinda stuff. I’m glad you’re okay—well, mostly okay. C’mon. Let’s get going.”

Hop makes no effort to move. He staunchly faces the back of the crevice, refusing to turn around.

“Hop, please.” The champion sounds desperate. “Let’s go back, okay? We need to go.”

No reaction.

“Hop—“

“Why are you here.” Hop asks, voice devoid of any emotion. “Go away.”

“I won’t. I’m not leaving unless you come back with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Silence.

“…Why?”

“…”

“Why don’t you want to come back with me? Why…why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it? I’m not your enemy, Hop. I don’t want to fight with you. So, _please_ , tell me what I can do to—to _help_ you.”

“You can’t do anything.” Hop replies tersely. “It’s too late.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking that!“

“I won’t until you explain yourself!” The champion frustration is notable. “All I want is to understand what’s going on with you. I can’t help if I don’t know the details. Why didn’t you tell me you were being bullied? If you had, I could have helped.”

“You would have made it _worse_.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, _you_ don’t know that.” Hop finally whips around, cheeks flushed red with anger. “You don’t know anything!”

“Then tell me what I need to know!”

“It won’t make a difference!”

“ _Dammit Hop_ , would you _stop_ with this cryptic _bullshit!_ ” The champion yells, losing the last strand of his patience. “I know I haven’t been around! I know I’ve missed a lot! I know that I don’t know nearly as much about you as I should, but I’m here _now_. We’re together _now_ , Hop. Why doesn’t that count for anything to you? Why can’t you just _talk to me_?”

“You won’t _understand!_ ”

“Why?”

“I told you to stop—“

“ _Tell me_!”

“Because it’s always been about you!” Hop screams his throat raw, eyes glistening. “It’s always you! _Everything!_ Even when it isn’t, it _is_. Everyone _everywhere_. No matter where I go, no matter what I do or what I say, it always comes back to _you_!” He sobs, tears erupting from his eyes. “Even _mum_! Even though I was always with her, even though we were always together, even _she_ —“ He cuts himself off, unable to get the words out. They’re too fresh on his mind. All he wants to do is forget them. Forget he ever heard them.

"What did she do, Hop? The champion presses. "What? Did she tell you something? "

“Sh-She—Right before she—I was _there_. Next to her. She looked right at me and said—“

His next words are painfully ripped from his throat. Like a newly stitched together wound being torn open, oozing and infected and _agonizing_ , leaving his voice quaking, his entire body _trembling_ with the effort it takes to get them out.

“Sh-She said _I’m so happy to see you, Leon.”_

The silence that follows is deafening.

Slowly, the champion lays a hand over his mouth. His skin is deathly pale, though that may be the chill finally seeping into his bones. Arthur directs his warmth over to his trainer, but it isn’t enough to get a reaction out of him.

He sits there, silently, stonily, expression blank.

Hop doesn’t know why he looks so affected. It’s not like he was the one who was mistaken for the elder brother that hadn’t earned a single ounce of their mother’s affection. It’s not as if he was the one who was forced to smile, hold her hand and say _yes mum it’s me leon i’m home_ and watch as her face lit up brilliantly in response.

For the first time in a very long time she looked genuinely _happy._

Because she thought he was _someone else_.

“A-And then Sonia took me away and she died.” Hop ends his tale with a wretchedly morbid smile. “You see? It’s _always_ about you. Even though I tried my best to make her happy, it came down to you in the end. Like always.” He laughs weakly.“Nothing I do is ever enough. Nothing I do matters. I’ll never be you and nobody’s okay with that. I guess not even she was.” Hop sniffles, his chest constricting. “And, you know, it’s not like I don’t understand why. I think that’s why it hurts so much. You’re the best trainer in all of Galar, but it’s more than that. Everyone loves you because you’re strong and brave. You make them feel safe and get them excited about battling. That’s why they buy your shirts and your s-stupid hats. But, y-y’know, I never cared about any of that. Even though the Champion was everywhere, I hated him. I hated his matches, his merchandise, his face on those stupid magazines Sonia was always hiding from me, how he talked on all those telly programs and made the hosts and the audience laugh. I hated his face and his voice. I hated his battling and his Pokémon and _everything about him be-because_ —“

Hop raises his head, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Because all I ever wanted was my big brother Leon and the Champion took him away from me!”

Complete and utter devastation overtake the champion’s face.

“Hop…” His voice trembles. “ _Hop_ …”

“It’s not like I wanted to hate you!” Hop cries, desperately wiping his face with his arms. “I k-kept hoping you’d come back. Th-That one day you’d remember me and maybe mum would get better and w-we could all be together again. B-But you never did and she only got worse. And I could…I could tell she wanted you to come back, too. She never told me but I _knew_. And i-i-it made me so _mad_ b-because wasn’t I enough? Why wasn’t I _enough_?”

“You _are_.” The champion reaches out, hands hovering awkwardly within the space that separates them. “You’re good enough. You’re more than good enough, Hop. Please, _please_ don't doubt that she knew that, too. She loved you, with all her heart. Do you really want to discredit all the time you spent together over one slip up?"

"B-But she...I'm not _you_."

"Did she ever make you feel like you had to be? Did she ever say or imply or do _anything_ to make you think you should be more like me?"

"N-No." Hop sniffles. In fact, she was the first person he went to if he didn't want to deal with that. Putting aside the distant looks at the mention or sight of her eldest son, it wasn't as if she ever suggested that Hop behave any other way than how he already did. She encouraged his interests, made him feel like a star and not a failure within their household.

With his mum, he was always Hop. Not Leon, not Leon's brother, not Leon's shadow.

Hop.

"But then why did she..." He trails off, unsure. How could she mistake the two of them like that? Hadn't Hop done enough to differentiate himself from his brother in her eyes?

"She was...ill." The champion rubs the back of his neck. "I'm not an expert in medicine or anything like that, but it's just as likely she could have been seeing double, in a sense. She was, sorry for the lack of a better word, dying. I don't think it'd be weird for her to--I don't know, I don't want to act like I know anything about it. It's just, she was getting weaker and weaker. H-Her body I mean. That's a lot of strain, I reckon. So, please Hop, don't start doubting her. Don't doubt that she loved you, because she _did_. She may have mistaken us at the end, but that doesn't change all the days you spent with each other where she knew exactly who you were."

"H-How would you know that?" Hop hiccups, the pressure in his chest alleviating itself, if ever so slightly. It did make sense. That kind of confusion during one's last hours wasn't unheard of. He's sure he's read something along those lines in some random medical journal in the lab before. "You d-don't know a-anything. You w-weren't there."

"Maybe I wasn't, but if you loved her as much as I know you do, that must mean she did something to deserve it. You're more than good enough, and I'm positive she thought so too. It’s—I’m—“ He slumps over, hands digging into the dirt below them. “ _I’m_ the one who’s not good enough. Not for you. Not for Raihan. Not for Sonia. Not _anyone_. All I’m good at is hurting all of you. If I were a better person, I would have left for your own good, but I haven’t, because I’m selfish. You’re all I _have_ , Hop. Galar loves the Champion, but they couldn’t care less about Leon.” He laughs bitterly. “I have trophies, medals and belts, but those aren’t very good conversation partners. They don’t care if I’m sad or mad, nervous or happy. They don’t care if I’ve had a bad day, or even if I’m lonely. They want me to battle, and I’ll gladly do that, but in the end, I don’t have anything, and the few things I did, I went and ruined.”

“That’s why…” The champion clenches his fists. “That’s why you shouldn’t talk down on yourself. You shouldn't be like me, because I’m no good. I’m a bad champion and a bad brother. I don’t always listen, I say all the wrong things, I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even know who it is I’m supposed to be anymore.”

“Y-You’re the _champion_.”

“What if I don’t _want_ to be him anymore?”

Hop stares, eyes wide.

“What...?”

“I’m _tired_ , Hop.” He confesses, shoulders slumped, as if they are carrying the very weight of the world upon them. “I’m so _tired_. What’s the point of wearing a crown if it means giving up everything that matters to you? I love to battle, but it’s not everything. I used to think it was, but it’s not. It’s fun, yeah, but after the dust settles, what’s left? Just an empty stadium. I don’t want every other part of my life to be an empty stadium. I want to spend time with my friends and my family. I want to be there for them. I want to learn new things. I want to find new hobbies. I want to breathe easy and not worry about what millions of strangers who don’t know a thing about me have to say. I want…“

“…to be happy.” Hop finishes for him, eyes wide as he gazes upon his brother.

The champion smiles. It’s a melancholic one that doesn’t suit his features at all.

“Yeah. Happy. That’s all I want. I used to think I was, but that was never the truth, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise. I didn’t want to see what was right in front of me.”

“Because you’re a du-dummy.” Hop supplies vindictively, hiccuping. “You’re a b-big, stupid, _dummy_.”

“I am.” The champion chuckles quietly. “I’m the biggest dummy there is, but I don’t want to be one anymore. I want to be smart, like you. I want to be happy and make sure everyone around me is, too. I want to make sure you’re safe and sound, like a proper big brother should. Can I, Hop? Can I be your big brother again? This time, I'll be a good one who doesn’t leave you all alone and wondering if he’ll ever come back. I’ll try to listen more, to notice things without having to be told to my face. I-I'll never make you feel like you have to be like me, because you shouldn’t. You should be Hop. A really smart, really clever and really kind boy.”

“That’s n-not true. I’m not kind at all.” Hop glances at Arthur, who’s been quietly observing them. “I’ve thought horrible things about your team. I hated them. I used to think the worst of them. I’m horrible.”

Arthur growls and pokes Hop’s cheek with one of his claws, bopping him on the head with one of his wings.

“Hey!” Hop complains. “Not nice.”

“I’d say that answers that.” The champion laughs, patting his old friend on the back. “You shouldn't sweat that kinda stuff. It's in the past now. People change. I think we’re _both_ allowed to change. I want to be better. And I know you do, too. Why don’t we make a promise to act on that?”

“A promise...?”

“Sure. A promise to be better versions of ourselves.” The champion clears his throat, holding out his pinky finger. “I, Leon, promise to be a better person and an even better big brother. A big brother Hop can be proud of and rely on. One he knows will always be on his side, no matter what. I’ll probably mess up a lot and be the reason for all of his future headaches, but I hope he’ll be patient with me, and that I can extend the same courtesy to him.” He looks at him expectantly. “Your turn.”

Hop hesitates.

It’s just a silly pinky promise, but somehow, it feels heavier than that. Can he really hold out his hand after all this time? After all the pain and ill-will and resentment? The champion is promising an awful lot for someone who doesn’t have a very pristine track record for being present.

It’d be much easier to slap his hand away, yell at him, begrudge him, and demand he be left alone. Claim his words are full of hot air like his head, and that he should simply sign Hop away to someone who can actually provide him with a proper home and guidance and attention.

It would be so easy to extinguish the hopeful glint in those eyes that resemble his own so very much. To smother it to ash and pretend as if it’s made him feel even remotely better about anything that’s happened to him within the short ten years he’s walked upon the Earth.

Hop could continue fighting. Clawing and biting and drawing blood, hurting the both of them in the process.

Or he could hold out his hand, take a risk, and hope for the best.

The odds certainly aren’t in his favor. Not at all. They’ve never been.

But maybe the stars can be.

“...I, H-Hop, promise to be a better person and an even better little brother. A little brother who believes in his big brother, even when he doesn’t deserve it or when everything is telling him he _shouldn’t_. I’ll…I’ll probably still get angry and say cruel things to you. I’ll be bitter and mean and slam the door in your face and not listen to a word you have to say, even if you’re, _in the very unlikely case_ , right about something—“ The champion laughs at that. “—but I’ll try to be better, too. I’ll try to listen and understand and be considerate and empathetic.”

“And _kinder._ To yourself.” The champion tacks on for him. “I know it’s difficult to shake off what people say about you, but take it from the guy who’s been roasted enough times online to have sworn off social media for good. They don’t know you. They don’t know anything about you. If they want you to be more like me, you be even more like you, just to spite them.”

“People say bad things about you?” Huh. And here Hop thought Galar treated their savior like the otherworldly being he is. _Not_.

“Plenty. It was really getting me down at one point. Raihan suggested I stay clear entirely. Can’t think too hard on it if I don’t know what anyone’s saying.” He shrugs. “Never really interested me in the first place, anyway. Wasn’t too hard to give it up. I don’t know how he deals with it.”

“He’s on a different level than us. I think we could learn a lot from him.”

The champion’s expression softens.

“Yeah. We can.” He flexes his pinky. “Is…Is that a proper promise between brothers, then? No breaking it and no backing out. Serious business only.”

Hop glances at his pinky, then the champion’s. Slowly, he holds his own out, the champion doing the same.

They meet in the middle, and swear upon their words.

“Heh.” The champion grins, though his eyes are glistening with unshed tears, his bottom lip wobbling. “Say, Hop? W-Would you mind terribly if I…?” He holds his arms out. “Y-You can mind it. You don’t have to. It’s just…I _really—_ Never mind.” The limbs drops down to his sides. “Sorry. Not the time. I just thought maybe—“

The champion doesn’t get to finish that thought, because Hop lunges forward, hands coming to grip the back of his shirt.

“It’s okay, Leon.” He murmurs, burrowing his face into his shoulder. “Just this once.”

His brother doesn’t think twice about it. He cradles the back of Hop’s head, crushing him against his chest.

“ _I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Hop_.” He weeps, holding Hop as close as he can. “ _I’ll be better. I promise. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry._ ”

Hop’s nods, tears and sobs muffled into Leon’s damp shirt. They’re both likely to catch a nasty bug after this, but it’s too late to worry about that now.

They can worry about it later.

Abruptly, two loud, popping sounds reverberate throughout the small den they’re tucked into, red light illuminating the rocky walls. Hop has no time to react when he and Leon are tackled to the ground in a heap of human and Pokémon limbs.

“Wha— _Mordred_? G-Galahad?” Leon wheezes, taking the brunt of everyone’s weight. “Holy—C-Couldn’t wait for us to finish our m-moment first?”

Mordred shrieks, slapping him with her tail, ripping Hop away from him to hold for herself. Galahad joins in on the cuddle, tail curling around all of them, claws coming to rest upon Hop’s shoulders. Gwin and Gwen burrow themselves into his hair, squeaking happily over their reunion.

“Oh, _sweet Arceus,_ I think this is it for me.”

Arthur rolls his eyes at his trainer’s dramatics. With his tail, he shoves the man into the group hug, rounding the the circle off with his wings, sparing them all from the harsh chill of the night.

Hop can’t help but smile at their antics, in spite of the tears that continue to fall from his eyes.

“They were worried, too.” Leon tells him, smiling warmly. He fondly shakes his head as Mordred and Arthur begin to bicker _yet again_. “Dragons don’t place their trust in any ole person, you know. It takes a lot to convince them of your worthiness. Once you do though, it’s for life. You’re one of their own and they’ll make sure you know it. That’s what Raihan’s told me, anyway.”

One of their own…

Hop doesn’t think he’s anywhere near worthy of their acceptance, but if that’s really true. If he’s really been bestowed upon with something as valuable as that—

He won’t let it be in vain. He won’t allow them to regret their choice.

He’ll be better. For the dragons. For Raihan. For Sonia.

For his brother.

For himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this_ is the chapter I've been meaning to write since the beginning
> 
> I hope I got both Hop and Leon's feelings across well. Hop just wants to know he's wanted and loved and fine the way he is while Leon is nowhere near perfect, can be oblivious to the feelings of others, and say all the wrong things at the wrong times, but fundamentally good at heart. He loves his family, and will do whatever it takes to become a better person for their sake.


	14. never coming back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath.

“It’s sprained?”

“Hold up a sec.” Raihan says, rotating his ankle. When Hop winces, a grimace spreads across his face. “Yeah, it’s sprained. Really swelled up on ya. How’d you not notice?”

“Emotional duress.” Hop replies dryly. There’s a lot a person can miss when they’re blindly tripping over themselves in a forest during a violent thunderstorm while attempting to come to grips with their existence and self-worth. “I think it’s from when I jumped down the stairs at the dragon’s mouth.”

It _had_ been a nasty fall, rattling Hop’s bones from head to toe, but he hadn’t given it much thought, too busy with aforementioned existential crisis.

“Can you give me an estimate for the height of the drop?”

“I’m not sure. I vaulted from the very top.”

“From the _top_?” Raihan regards him incredulously. “How did you—How are neither of your ankles _shattered_?”

“Should that have shattered them?”

“ _Yes_. Or at least broken a few bones. Not that I’m complaining.”

“I guess.” Hop shrugs, leaning back against his bed’s headboard. He idly pets Arthur’s snout, the rest of the Charizard’s body strewn across the duvet. The ‘mon refused to leave his side since they arrived home the previous night, much to Galahad’s annoyance. The Dragapult was relegated to sleeping on his actual bed, set up at the corner of the room by his trainer. Even now, he was staring at his team leader with unconcealed resentment, Gwin and Gwen doing much the same. Hopefully, mutiny was _not_ in the mist. “Maybe because I have practice? I used to jump out my bedroom window all the time back home. It hurt sometimes, but I never broke or tore anything.”

“Not to be your responsible voice of reason, but how about you _stop_ doing that?” Raihan sighs, taking out a compression bandage from the first aid kit perched upon Hop’s nightstand. “There’s no telling how badly you’ll hurt yourself next time. Keep the stunts to a minimum from now on, ‘kay kiddo? I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Sorry.” Hop apologizes. He watches Raihan wrap his ankle with the bandage for a moment. “Um, sorry about yesterday, too. I was really rude to you before I left for school.”

“You were?” The gym leader frowns, thinking. “…Oh. _Oh._ That? You weren’t being rude. I didn’t take it that way, at least. Besides, I think you’ve learned a valuable lesson from it.”

“I did?”

“”course.” Raihan glances at him. “He came back for you, didn’t he?”

Hop blinks.

“…yeah.” He looks at his hands. “He did.”

“As long as you understand that, it’s fine.” Raihan leans back in Hop’s comically too small for him desk chair. “Yo, Lee!”

Within seconds, Leon appears by the doorway. He looks nowhere near winded enough for someone who’s spent the entire morning rearranging furniture (for hop’s sake apparently) without help from anybody. Whether his monstrous strength is an inheritable genetic trait remains to be seen. Hop hopes it is. He wouldn’t mind being able to lift an _entire sofa_ singlehandedly.

“Get a few pillows from the cupboard.” Raihan requests. “It’s a sprain.”

“Oh _thank goodness_. _”_ Leon sighs with relief. “Hear that? You’re going to be fine, Hop! It’s just a sprain!”

“We’ve established that.”

“Yeah!” He stands there, grinning, before seeming to remember what’s just been asked of him. “ _Right_. Pillows. Wait here.”

“Not like I’m going anywhere.” Hop says, his tone flat as he points to his injury.

“I think it’s also been established that a sprain would hardly stop you.” Leon responds with a raised eyebrow. “Which is why it needs mentioning.”

“He’s got a point.” Raihan agrees, the traitor. “Stay put.”

“ _Fine_.” Hop rolls his eyes, making a show of slouching. “I will."

Flashing him a thumbs up, Leon bounds down the hall, footsteps thumping against the hardwood flooring.

“Are you two still mad at each other?” Hop asks the moment he thinks it’s safe. He doesn’t think it’s a secret or anything, but he’d like to afford Raihan a bit of discretion.

“Nah. First thing he did when you conked out last night was apologize. Said he’d try to take a few more pages from my book and be more chill.” Raihan shake his head fondly. “I told him I’d try to see things from his perspective next time. Be more patient, y’know? Lucky for him, I happen to have boatloads of patience when it comes to his pain in the ass hotheadedness.” He gives Hop a pointed look. “Just as much as I have for your penchant for reckless self-endangerment.”

Hop scratches his cheek sheepishly.

“Th-Thank you. For being patient with me and him, I mean.” He twiddles his thumbs, face heating up. “You’ve done a lot for us, even when we haven’t deserved it. I appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble, sweet pea.” Raihan ruffles Hop’s already messy hair. “I try to help out wherever I can. It’s what I’m here for. S’long as you two are safe and sound, that’s all I care about.”

He smiles. Hop returns it, because he really does appreciate Raihan. There’s so few people left willing to extend that sort of courtesy to him.

“Got ‘em.” Leon strides into the room. In typical fashion, he’s exaggerated the demand for them, the tower in his hands tipping dangerously. “Think this’ll be enough?”

“Should be.” Raihan takes a few, stacking them before carefully lifting Hop’s ankle to place atop the pile. Leon uses the rest to build a fortress wall, not unlike Hammerlocke’s, around Hop, making sure not to disturb Arthur in the process.

Once they’re done, they high-five.

“Remember RICE.” Leon tells him, finishing the treatment off with an ice pack. “Rest it, ice it, compress it and keep it elevated. You should be fine in a few days, but let us know if it starts feeling worse.”

“Okay.” Hop wiggles his toes around. The ice is freezing, but he can’t deny the pain is alleviating itself somewhat. “I guess getting suspended is good for something.”

“Actually…we should probably talk about that.” Even though he’s the one who says, Raihan doesn’t look entirely sure where to begin. Hop doesn’t either. He’s ashamed enough as it is. He’d rather not talk about it at all. “Wanna start things off, Lee?”

“What’s there to say?”

“ _Leon_.”

“What?” The champion frowns. “I mean, yeah, it’s bad that he hurt the kid, but the brat had it coming.”

“I think what your bro _means to say,_ is violence is no good, Hip-Hop.” Raihan sighs. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to say you deserved to be treated like you were, because _absolutely not no way._ What I want you to understand is hurting others back isn’t the way to solve your problems. There are bad people everywhere. People that’ll say the meanest, nastiest things to you. That never warrants raising your hand against them. The best you can do is avoid those types or tell an adult.”

“But it’s not like they ever _do_ anything!” Hop exclaims, folding his arms against his chest. “When I went to school in Motostoke, the kids were horrible to me, too! A-And I tried telling the teacher but they never did anything.” He clenches his fists. “I’ve always ignored them. I tried my best here, too. But then he made fun of my friend and—I couldn’t let him get away with saying those awful things about my mum. I _couldn’t_.”

“You did good.”

“ _Leon_.” Raihan glares at him. “Don’t congratulate him. He needs to know it’s not acceptable behavior.”

“Bullying isn’t acceptable behavior, but look what they went and did to him.” Leon doesn’t back down, returning the glare with as much intensity. “He needed to protect himself.”

“Didn’t you tell me it was wrong yesterday?” Hop inquires, confused. “That I shouldn’t do that?”

“That was before I knew what he said to you. You did the right thing.”

“He did _not_.” Raihan pinches the bridge of his nose. He reminds Hop so much of Sonia in that moment it almost makes him laugh. “Listen, Hopscotch. No more hitting people. Your brother and I are going to have a long chat with the school board to make sure this never happens again, so _please_ , _talk to us_ next time. We’ll do whatever it takes to help you.”

“Okay.” Hop nods, recalling the showdown between Leon and the headmaster. There’s a question he’s been meaning to ask. Now seems as good a time as any. “Raihan, is it true that you’re the Lord of Hammerlocke?”

“What?”

“Leon said you’re the Lord of Hammerlocke. He told the head he was gonna speak to you, ‘cause you’re the Lord.”

“Lord _Speaker_.” Leon corrects. “There’s a difference…right?”

“Maybe _don’t_ throw titles around if you don’t know what they mean.” Raihan remarks dryly, shifting his attention back to Hop. “I’m the _Duke_ of Hammerlocke. Lord Speaker is what they call me during council meetings. It’s a formal way to address me, since I usually head them off.” He throws a questioning glance Leon’s way. “You didn’t mention you said that.”

“Hey, it scared her into listening to me.” The champion shrugs. “What can they do if Hop’s got the Duke slash Lord Speaker on his side?”

“You’re really a Duke?” Hop asks, not bothering to conceal his excitement. He’s always had a soft spot for stories about kings and queens and knights. To think, he’s been unwittingly living with a Duke this entire time!

Although, now that he’s considering it, owning the most historical castle in all of Galar should have been a dead giveaway, along with being the great great great grandson of Great Lady Charlotte, the _coolest_ of duchesses, uniter of all realms and whatnot.

“Sure am.” Raihan confirms, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Don’t like touting it too much, but that’s the plain and simple of it.”

“What the heck.” Not knowing what to do with himself after the revelation, Hop flops onto his side and hugs Arthur, who snuggles into his grip, cocooning Hop within his wings. “You’re so _cool_.”

“Isn’t he?” Leon rests his hands on Raihan’s shoulders. “There’s a reason he’s my greatest rival.”

“According to you, I’m your _only_ rival.”

“Same thing.” Leon pulls his headband back and passes a hand over his forehead, straying off into his hair to run through his dreads. “You’re the only one worth giving my time of day.”

“Lovely of you to say that, mate.” Raihan huffs out a laugh. “I bet the other gym leaders would be _real_ happy to hear that.”

“Maybe when they can knock a single one of my Pokémon out, they can talk.” Leon waves the statement off disinterestedly, turning his attention back to Hop. “We’ll let you rest now.” He glances at his Charizard, currently coiled around Hop like a serpent. “I wouldn’t normally do this, but since Artie’s being stubborn about it, I’ll leave him here with you. Is that okay?”

“He’s warm.” Is all Hop says in response to that, leaning further into Arthur’s grip. It’s like having a heated blanket wrapped around him, all nice and toasty.

“Keep the ankle elevated, kiddo.” Raihan rises from the chair and ruffles his hair once more. “Holler if you need anything.”

“M’kay.” Hop mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. He wouldn’t mind a few more hours of sleep. The only reason he woke as early as he did was because his ankle was killing him, but now that it’s been taken care of, snoozing the day away sounds as good a plan as any.

“Don’t hesitate to ask for anything, all right?”

“Mhm…”

“Seriously.”

“Mm…hm”

"Anything at all."

"...m..."

“…Sweet dreams, Hop.”

“…”

The last he feels is a hand brushing through his fringe before the sound of his door softly clicking shut follows.

* * *

Hop doesn’t know how long he ends up sleeping for.

It must not be long enough. His eyes still feel heavy, his body fatigued and aching.

That is of no consequence to the universe, however. A thumping on the far side of the room jolts him into wakefulness.

“Wha’s goin’ on…?” He slurs sleepily. He pulls away from Arthur, who’s got an eye trained over Hop’s shoulder, a severely suspicious glare leveled at whatever it is he’s looking at. Hop cranes his head to follow his line of sight. Galahad, Gwin and Gwen are crowding the window, prodding and poking at it.

Unthinkingly, he nearly hauls his legs over the side of his bed, stopped only by Arthur. The Charizard pushes him back onto it, gesturing towards his ankle.

“Oh…right.”

Carefully, Arthur vaults over Hop, gliding across the room to join Galahad.

“What is it?” Hop asks, rolling onto his other side to get a better look. He can’t really see beyond their forms, but he thinks he can make out something flittering about beyond the frame. It’s nothing rare. At their elevation, it’s common to see flying types soar by the stadium, the occasional one coming to rest on any ledges they can get a decent grip on.Hop even has a regular visitor of his own.

A regular visitor…

He catches a flash of blue and black. A hint of white.

_A regular visitor._

“Wait!” Hop sits up with a squeak when Arthur cracks the window open, he and Galahad ready to intimidate the perceived annoyance away. “Hold on! Don’t scare him!”

Arthur’s jaw snaps shut. Galahad stops with his scary face maneuver. They glance over at him questioningly.

“Don’t. He’s not—He’s a guest. Please, let him in.”

Not bothering to wait for an invitation, the Corvisquire darts into the room, landing upon Hop’s lap with an indignant squawk. He levels Arthur and Galahad with a vicious glare. It doesn’t inspire a single reaction from either besides confusion, but it’s a nice try nonetheless.

“Sorry.” Hop apologizes, tentatively running a hand over the ‘mon’s ruffled plumage. For once, it’s allowed of him. The Corvisquire nestles closer, familiarity overcoming any sense of hesitation at his proximity. Hop would like to think it’s because he’s more comfortable around him.

Somehow though, he gets the feeling it’s more about the the perspective of being towered over and glowered at by two large dragons. Not long ago, his reaction would have been the same.

“You didn’t stop by yesterday.” Hop states, rubbing the area beside his beak. “Were you going to?” A nod. “Did the storm stop you?” Another one. “That’s okay. Thank you for delivering it today.”

Corvisquire puffs out his chest, as if to say _of course I did_ , before he startles further into Hop’s lap at Arthur and Galahad’s approach. They eye him oddly. Gwin and Gwen drift down to inspect him, flinching back when he flaps his wings to scare them off. Galahad immediately attempts to round on him, but Hop holds up a placating hand to stop him.

“Don’t fight.” He pleads, shielding his avian companion with his arms. “He’s not good around others. He doesn’t mean to be rude. He’s just…he’s been through a lot, I reckon.”

Galahad doesn’t look convinced as he takes his Dreepy into his arms, urging them back into their respective cannons for safe keeping. Arthur is a little more receptive, poking the terrified Corvisquire with his claw, gesturing towards the delivery attached to his neck.

“You want to know what this is?” Hop takes the letter, running a hand over the slightly crinkled envelope. Looks like the Purrloin is out of the proverbial bag, though it doesn’t manage to quell the nerves developing at the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t planning on sharing this with anyone, not even the ‘mons. The last thing he wanted was them running off to tell Raihan and Leon when it’s still a matter he’s keeping close to his heart.

He’s hesitant to share the whole thing, but if it’s them…

Maybe it’ll be all right.

The door suddenly creaking catches his attention.

Hop is not at all surprised by the sight of the rest of the gang practically piled atop each other, peeking into his room without a single shred of shame. They haven’t been allowed in at Leon and Raihan’s insistence. Hop thinks it was a senseless request. Dragons such as these aren’t meant for following orders when they’re worried about something.

It feels arrogant and presumptuous and _wrong_ and to assume they could be worried about him, but it makes him feel all nice and warm and fuzzy inside, so he clings to the feeling as much as he can. Braving a storm for his sake has to mean _something_ _special_ , doesn’t it?

“Eavesdroppers.” Hop smiles fondly, waving them in. “Okay, okay. Gather ‘round everyone. Make sure to close the door. I’m gonna share a secret with all of you.”

The rest of the group scrambles inside, doing as he asks.

Mordred settles in next to him on one side of the bed, Dee on the other. Galahad and Flo flop onto the covers. Arthur and Lulu stand on either corner of his bed, forming a protective barriers of sorts. The Corvisquire trembles on his lap as they crowd around. Hop runs a hand over his feathers to soothe him.

“I guess I’ll start with introductions. Everyone, this is Mr. Corvisquire. He’s been generous enough to deliver —“ Hop digs around under his pillow for the rest of the envelopes. Not the safest spot by any means, but he hasn’t gotten around to finding a better place to keep them. “—these _very important_ letters to me. He’s not very good at being kind, and he’s very scared and suspicious of others, but he’s doing his best. I hope you’ll be patient with him.”

Dee is the first to make nice, holding out a stubby hand with a jolly cry. The Corvisquire, still trembling, considers it. He doesn’t make any move to interact with her, although he doesn’t peck her either. The rest offer their own form of greetings, save for Galahad, too protective a father(?) to forgive any slight against his children(??).

“As for these letters…” Hop stares at the latest one, growing melancholic. “They’re special because…they’re from my mum. She wrote them to me before she passed away. I don’t know where they’re coming, just that Mr. Corvisquire is delivering them.” Flo tries to sniff at one, but Hop gently pushes him away. “No, no. You don’t need to try and track them down or anything. It’s fine. This way, it feels like they’re coming directly from her. It’s almost like—like she’s still around. Somewhere. Like I’ll get the chance to meet her again one day, as long as I keep waiting.”

It’s foolish and untrue. Hop was there when they lowered her down into the Earth. When everyone bid their farewells. She’s not coming back, no matter how much he hopes for it. No matter how badly he longs to see her face and have her hold him and whisper silly stories about fairies and knights and stars shooting across the sky, traveling all the way across the universe to find each other.

She’s never coming back.

“It’s silly.” He smiles ruefully. “But it feels like, as long as I keep getting these and reading them, she’s not gone. I can keep—I can keep pretending she _isn’t_ , even though she is. That’s silly, isn’t it? So silly…”

His eyes ache, but somehow, the tears start back up again. All he wants to do is stop lamenting all of this, but it doesn’t feel like he ever will. Doesn’t the pain ever go away?

If he knew it would hurt this much, wouldn’t it have been better to forget? To have never been together at all?

“I miss her so much.” He admits, the words weighing on him painfully. “Sometimes I still wake up thinking I’ll see her. When I don’t—When I remember—It _hurts_.”

Dee whines sadly, throwing her arms around him. Hop doesn’t even mind that she’s getting slime all over him.

“Sorry, this isn’t what I wanted to tell you.” Hop dabs at his eyes with his shirt. “These letters make me happy is what I’m saying.” He holds the one in his hand up. “Mr. Corvisquire brought a new one today. I’m very thankful for it. Would you…” He pauses, suddenly bashful. “W-Would you like me to read this one aloud?”

A chorus of cries follow.

“All right then.” Hop clears his throat, cheeks tinged pink. He doesn’t mind. Not really. It’s still a little embarrassing, though. He hopes his mum hasn’t decided to write about her fond memories of Hop saying all sorts of silly things or bawling like a baby when his kite nearly took off with him into the sky because he went against her warnings about going out on a particularly windy day.

Hop slips the letter out, unfolds it, and begins to read, Dee still clinging onto him.

_to my early morning mist and late evening fog,_

_happy days, love!_

_that’s what i’m hoping for you, anyway. i’m doing fine myself. more than fine actually._

_today, you gave me a lovely gift!_

_my very own ho-oh!_

_pictures don’t do the real thing justice. this one is more than i could have ever hoped for! the details, the craftsmanship, the heart and soul in every brush stroke, it all comes together seamlessly to form a truly elegant and mystical bird of legend!_

_you’re so talented, sweetheart. i think a career in woodcrafting or carpentry would serve you well. or if not, a few online tutorials to further it along as a hobby._

_i can’t stop looking at it even now. you keep telling me to, but i have a feeling you’re well pleased about._

_you don’t have to be shy about being pleased when others praise you, hop. take it in stride as i do. a lady as refined as myself can never receive too many compliments._

_i can tell you’re probably as red as a cheri berry right now. i’m sure it’ll take time, but please keep that in mind. you deserve to know you’re talented. you deserve praise when it is rightfully due. i hope wherever you are, the people around you are well aware of that._

_now, i suppose the story must continue, no? where did we last leave off?_

_ah, yes, leaving galar._

_i will admit, the moment i stepped onto that plane, i was shaking in my boots. i only had what few belongings i could stuff into my duffel bag and my wits about me. i didn’t know what would await me on the other side of the ocean. i didn’t know what i would do or where i would go or who i would meet._

_all i knew was that there had to be some grander purpose to my existence. i was looking for something. i didn’t know what at the time, but i was searching desperately for it._

_which is how i ended up in johto of all places._

_to say i played the part of a sad, confused, and ignorant tourist is a gross understatement._

_i spent the entire time bumbling around cluelessly, camping out where i clearly wasn’t allowed, stumbling into caves bursting with pokémon i’d never seen before in my life._

_did i ever tell you about the time i got chased by an ursaring?_

_take it from me, love. never approach teddiursa, no matter how cute and fluffy and huggable they look. you will not be forgiven._

_goldenrod was especially fun. even with my broken sentences formed on the back of a flimsy dictionary i bought for a coin, i managed to meet a lot of kind folk. there was one family in particular that picked me up off the side of a rode and let me lodge with them. they fed me, gave me a few essentials, and sent me back on my way as soon as I wasn’t falling over from hunger pains._ _we could hardly understand what either of us was saying, but they were still so willing to show me kindness. to be compassionate towards a stranger wreaking havoc on their turf._

 _they treated me better than my own parents ever did. t_ _hat’s how i knew i was making the right choice._

_if i had stayed in postwick, i never would have met those kind people. i never would have realized that the world is full of people willing to listen and take your plight into consideration. people that are compassionate and good and inspire you to be the same._

_i wanted to be someone like that._

_eventually, my travels took me to ecruteak._

_it’s a beautiful city, deeply rooted in johto traditionalism. i don’t quite remember what a lot of the shrines and temples there are meant to honor, but i’ll always remember the one that impacted me most._

_the bell tower._

_you’re very clever, darling. i’m sure you know exactly where this is going._

_i never got to climb it. you’ve got to be pure of heart. something along those lines. i didn’t test my luck with it. i wasn’t about to cause an international incident for the sake of it, but i did read up on a lot of the lore while i was there. took me forever to figure out with my crummy dictionary, but it wasn’t as if i had anywhere else to be._

_apparently, there used to be two towers in ecruteak. the one on the east awakened pokémon while the one on the west put them to rest. ho-oh used to hang out on the eastern one, and the people respected and revered them._

_but then one day, the western tower burned down, killing three pokémon. ho-oh was real beat up about it because they’re a super sweetheart, and revived them, creating suicune, entei, and raikou in turn. after that, all of them took off, and never returned again._

_they say ho-oh’ll only return if someone pure of heart finds them. for now, they’re backpacking across the world, just like i was at the time._ _supposedly, if you see one, you’ll be promised eternal happiness._

_when i found that out, i think you can imagine what it is i decided._

_i was going to find myself a ho-oh._

_not to catch it. i think we’re very similar in that respect, hop. catching, training and battling? never my thing. i liked watching the critters from afar, maybe petting a few cute ones whenever the opportunity presented itself. i liked our wooloo fine enough._ _beyond that, though? no thanks._

 _i didn’t want to catch it for keeps or battle it to prove myself or any of that nonsense. all i wanted was a single glimpse. a single passing look._ _just a single second. to know that they existed. to know that there was a chance for me to find what i’ve always wanted._

_because that’s what it was, hop. i wanted to be happy. what better way to achieve that than to go globetrotting trying to find the one being that can guarantee it._

_you’re probably shaking your head and thinking about how silly that sounds. i agree. i’m older now, and i still can’t wrap my head around my logic at the time. finding a pretty pokémon can’t grant you satisfaction with your life. it can’t fix your problems or make you feel less empty inside. but for me, at that time and place, it felt right. it felt like what i was meant to be doing with my life._

_so that’s what i did. i traveled and traveled and traveled. got more confident with my skills in wilderness survival and learning the basics of whatever language i needed to know at any given time._ _learned a lot. read a lot. saw all sorts of unique pokémon. met even more wonderful people and even a few bad ones, too._

 _no trip’s_ _ever perfect._

_johto, kanto, sinnoh, hoenn, unova. kalos. i went to them all. not a single sighting. i followed any lead i could get my hands on. every trace, every clue, every piece of flimsy gossip. everything._

_one day, i found myself in alola. lovely place. i wish i could have taken you._

_my spirits were low when i arrived. i remember checking into the cheapest inn i could find the first day, a few miles off the shore, tucked in between a shack and some grimy convenience store. it was late, and i was tired, but i wasn’t up for sleep. i was too down on myself for that. i’d only end up tossing and turning. i took off for the beach instead. necessitated a bit of walking, but once i was there, i sat down and_

_sorta just existed for a while._

_alola’s ocean’s are something else during the day._

_at night, though?_

_they’re all right, i guess._

_i prefer lively sunny days to peaceful nights, honestly. the pyukumuku were kind enough to let me toss them into the ocean. they really enjoy that sort of thing._

_but anyway, there i was, chucking pyukumuku and munching my sorrows away, wondering if my whole quest was pointless and if i should go back to galar and save myself the trouble. what were the chances that I would ever find ho-oh? a billion to one? not likely at all. what was the point?_

_the universe is strange, though. it plops things in your way, things you're not looking for and things you'd never expect and forces you to either deal with them, or take off running and lie to yourself about what they mean to you._

_that’s the moment my troubles truly began, i think. for better or for worse._

_one second i’m finishing off my poorly made malasada and the next some runt of a ‘mon is making off with the bag of them i paid good money for._ _naturally, i start running after them. i don’t care who it is, you don’t steal a lady’s belongings like that! it’s rude uncouth and punishable by law!_

_i make it halfway across the beach, all sweaty and gross and angry, when the brat finally stops, hiding beside some bloke lounging on his back, looking all the world like nothing’s wrong. he had his eyes closed like he was sleeping, but i didn’t buy it. i’d been swindled one too many times on the rode to believe in innocuous reasoning behind an act of theft._

_so what did i do?_ _what does this angry, hungry, frustrated, tired mummy of yours do?_

_she grabs one of the pails they had lying around, fills it up with water and splashes the guy all over with it._

_he wakes up from his ‘nap’ or whatever, all surprised and shocked. meanwhile, i snatch my bag back. everything inside of it is ruined and soaked and got sand all over it but I don't care. it's mine. I paid for it._

_i tell him to raise his ‘mons better. to get a brain cell or two. to pay attention to his surrounding and not behave like a total layabout on a public beach. honestly, what kind of trainer allows their pokémon to run rampant without any supervision?_

_i told him off really good, hop. he was all fish like and gaping at me by the end. it was satisfying._

_but just when i’m about to stomp back to the inn in an even worse mood than I was before, he stops me._

_seals my fate with a single sentence._

_says ‘let me buy you the real stuff. a proper lady like you deserves the finer things in life’_

_now, hop, before you get all up in arms, and before i even attempt to justify that line coming out of anyone’s mouth, let me explain a few things._

_i was very tired._

_i was very angry._

_i was very hungry._

_and i was very very lonely._

_in no way does that justify my actions, seeing as this bloke was a total stranger with a misbehaved runt who lacked common decency. it was wrong. you shouldn’t follow my example. never ever ever._

_because mummy, against all common sense telling her not to, agreed._

_he bought me a dozen malasada. i ate them all in one sitting._

_that naughty ‘mon? it was a charmander._

_and that bloke with the pretty eyes, messy hair, lovely voice and pearly white teeth?_

_he was your father._

_i’ll end things here, i think._

_sorry for the cliffhanger. i’m getting better at those, right?_

_i’m not doing it to frustrate or annoy you. i promise. these stories are simply a lot for me to share. it’s exhausting sometimes._

_i’ve never fully confided them in anyone except magnolia. i’ve always wanted to tell you, though. perhaps not under these circumstances, but once i felt the time was right._

_but time waits for no one._

_once i gather the strength to sort through these memories, i’ll write up the next one._

_stay safe, darling._

_eat well. sleep well. play and learn and be as happy as you can be._

_with hugs kisses and the vivid memory of warm sugary malasadas,_

_mummy_

“So that’s how they met…” Hop murmurs, putting the letter down. “She never mentioned anything about traveling anywhere. Why would she hide that from me?”

That’s a rather silly question to ask.

It’s not as if she was traveling around having fun. From the tone of her words, it seemed more like a prolonged struggle full of suffering and self-doubt, rather than a young woman fulfilling her dreams of traveling the world, having a good ole time the whole way through.

All to find Ho-Oh.

To find a shred of happiness somewhere that wasn’t Postwick.

Instead she’d met Hop’s father.

_that’s the moment my troubles truly began, i think. for better or for worse._

What troubles is she talking about? What could his father have done to ruin everything so spectacularly so as to erase this very existence from their household? What was Leon’s relationship with him? Why the radical difference in opinion?

What could have torn their family apart?

“…She mentioned his Charmander.” Hop says suddenly, looking up. Arthur meets his gaze unflinchingly. “That’s not—was that you? Did he give you to Leon?”

Arthur hesitates only briefly before nodding.

Oh.

That…makes sense? At least for the weird feeling Hop’s getting that Leon and his mother clearly differed in opinions when it came to the mysterious man who Hop can’t remember a thing about but is somehow, inexplicably, at the center of everything.

He has to be the answer. The one piece to the puzzle that’s lost or damaged or not fitting in as well as it should.

What did or didn’t he do to cause them all to go their separate ways? Is he still alive? Does he live in Galar? Does he live somewhere else? Why did his mum grow to resent him? Why does Leon presumably feel the opposite?

Just who is his father?

“Ow.” Hop winces, rubbing his forehead. Mordred’s poked it with her claw. “Was there a reason for that?”

She lets out a guttural growl.

“Thinking too hard? I guess I am.” Hop sighs, folding the letter back up. A difficult task with Dee clinging to him. He scans the room. “That’s that. For today, at least. Are all of you as confused as I am?” 

Flo is the very definition of puzzled, his antenna twitching uncertainly. Dee is too busy hugging him to give an affirmative answer. Mordred just looks angry. Galahad is sleeping. Gwin and Gwen are trying to make friends with the Corvisquire again, with no results. Lulu looks troubled, and Arthur…

Arthur looks thoughtful.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Hop says, hiding the pile beneath his pillow again. “How about more sailor girl and friends? To get our mind off things?”

That gets everyone’s attention, as he expected he would.

At his request, Arthur carries him over to the window to let the Corvisquire back out. The Pokémon glances back at him, cocking his head slightly. Swiftly, he pecks Hop’s fingers and takes off.

This time around, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much.

* * *

“I think we need professional help.”

Hop doesn’t immediately respond to that.

He isn’t aware he’s being spoken to. He’s hunched over on the sofa, ankle propped upon two ottomans stacked atop each other, scraping the remainder of the frosting off his plate. Raihan had bought cake the night prior and he’s been spoiled with slice after slice after a hearty lunch consisting of solely his favorites.

Hop can’t deny his fondness for being coddled, but it would be just the _tiniest_ bit better without Leon hovering and asking every two minutes whether he needs to be rushed to the clinic because of whatever esoteric and completely unrelated diagnosis he’s researched on PokéMD.For someone who’s supposed to be the poster child for positivity, he’s sure saddled Hop with more than a few grim realities over pulling a stupid tendon or whatever.

“Hop.”

“What?” He looks down. Raihan and Leon are sitting on the carpet to afford him more room on the sofa. The former is occupied with his cellphone while the latter is staring at him expectantly. The Pokémon are out on the terrace. “What did you say?”

“I think we need professional help.”

“For my ankle?”

“For _us_.”

“What about us?”

“To help with our relationship.”

“Oh. What kind of professional help are you talking about?”

“A counselor. Or a therapist. Someone who can help us—“ Leon points between them. “Understand each other better. I think…I think it could help.”

“How exactly would they help us do that?”

“I’m…not sure. I’ve never been.” Leon looks to Raihan for help. “Any idea, Rai?”

“Huh?”

“ _C’mon_ , pay attention.” Leon frowns. “You’re the one who mentioned it. I’ve thought about it. Now tell us how it’ll help.”

“What are you—Wait a sec.” Raihan sets his phone aside, giving them his full attention. “Sorry. Someone was talkin’ shit about my headband. I was flaming them back. But, uh, _therapy_. Right. From my experience, they’re sort of like life coaches in a way? They help you out with whatever’s bothering you.”

“You’ve gone to one?” Hop asks, surprised. Looks like he was wrong about the assumption that Raihan was some sort of calm, cool and collected figure of wisdom since birth.

“Sure. Even I’ve got things I need help working out. You’re not alone in that.” Raihan smiles encouragingly. “When I was younger I had, like, abandonment issues, ‘cause my ma’ and pa’ took off on me. My grandad wasn’t sure how to deal with it, so he took me to one and it helped me realize that it wasn’t my fault. That I had nothing to do with it and that my parents were pieces of shit who I don’t owe anything to.”

“Was that exactly what they said?”

“Nah, I’m paraphrasing.” Raihan clarifies. “That’s the gist of it, though. I still go every once in a while. It helps. That’s why I’m suggesting it. I can’t guarantee anything, but it might be worth a shot.”

“What do you think?” Leon asks Hop.

“What do _you_ think?” Hop asks back. Even if he wants to, if the champion isn’t willing, what point is there? They’ll just end up back where they started.

“I think…” Leon bites his lip. “I think it could be good for us. Y’know, to talk to someone who knows what they’re doing and who can help us figure out what we’re missing, how we’re misunderstanding each other, what we can do to be a proper family and all that. I want to do this properly. A-And if that doesn’t work we can always try something else. I want to do whatever it takes, so you don’t think that I don't—I don’t want you to doubt me and I don’t want to give you reason to doubt me. What do you—What are your thoughts?”

“…I don’t have anything against it.” Hop says after brief contemplation. If it’ll get him to stop feeling so wound up and sad and angry all the time, why not? “If Raihan says it can help, we can try.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good. Ace.” Leon nods, fiddling with the brim of his hat. “That’s settled, I guess.”

“…What?” Hop frowns. “What else is there?”

“Huh?”

“Do you have something else you want to say to me?”

“No.”

“You look like you do.”

“I don’t. I promise.” He avoids eye contact, a tell tale sign he's got something to say. Hop is about to press him on it, because wasn’t airing out grievances a thing they were going to do on the regular now, when his cellphone starts ringing.

His eyes grow wide when he sees Marnie’s contact on the screen.Talk about unexpected.

“Who is it?” Raihan asks.

“It’s my…my friend.” He panics. Should he answer? Is he allowed to answer? Why is Marnie contacting him? Haven’t they broken ties? Hasn’t Hop effectively ruined any chance at a friendship by displaying to her that he is nothing but a brute with no manners? That he lets his fists do the talking like a common thug?

“Bzzt—Answering!”

“Wait—Rotom _no_!” Hop tries to hang up, but then he hears her voice and _knows_ he won’t be getting out of this no matter how hard he tries.

“Hop?” Marnie’s tone betrays nothing. It's soft and flat, no inflection to speak of. “Y’there?”

“Y-Yeah.” He swallows, setting his plate beside him, lest he drop and shatter and go cry himself to sleep over it. “I-I’m here. Hi.”

“Hey.”

Silence.

“Um—“

“I’ve got your homework for the week.” Marnie continues, as if he hasn’t said anything. She’s too clever. She knows he was going to stall or find a way to wiggle out of her saying whatever it is she wants to say. He absolutely was. “Said I’d drop it off for ya, but I dunno where ya live. Mind givin’ me your address?”

“I…I _can’t_.”

“Why?”

“My leg is broken.” He blurts out. Raihan and Leon raise their eyebrows in response. As if they have any right to question him! “Or— _No_ , that’s not—My ankle is sprained. I can’t move right now. I couldn’t—I live really high up—I _can’t_.”

“Does yer building not have an elevator?”

“It _does_ , but—“

“Give me the address. We both know yer not gonna rest well if you don’t got yer work with ya, and I don’t fancy luggin’ it all home with me.” She pauses. “…Unless you really don’t wanna see me. It’s up to you.”

“It’s not that! It’s…I didn’t think—I thought it was _me_.”

“You?”

“Yeah.”

“…give me yer address, Hop. I’m not jokin’.”

“O-Okay.”

Marnie hangs up. Hop quickly texts her the information, a million different possible outcomes racing through his mind.

How could he explain himself to her? What was there to say? He reacted _horribly_.

Maybe he could break the ice by cracking a few jokes about living in Raihan’s stadium castle?

Yeah, sure, take a right on main and there’s Hop comfy ole cottage. Just a billion kilometer tall castle built hundreds upon hundreds of years ago! It’s even got a snazzy drawbridge to boot! Wipe your shoes on the welcome mat up front and don’t forget to buy a novelty dragon gym coaster on your way out!

And afterwards she’d lose patience and declare him unfit to be her friend and leave and Hop would be alone forever with only his plushies from Hulbury to keep him company.

“She’s gonna _hate_ me.” Hop laments, burying his face in his hands. “She’s gonna stop being my friend. I’m an uncouth brute. Why would she want anything to do with me?”

“Whoa, _hey now_ , ease up on that kinda talk.” Raihan quickly rises to his feet, sitting beside him. “Why would she hate you for anything? Did you have an argument or…?”

“She tried to stop me from fighting.” Hop tells him miserably. “I didn’t listen to her. She’s being polite because she’s nice, but she doesn’t actually like me anymore.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because that’s what always happens.” Hop picks at the lint on his joggers. “Even if they’re nice in the beginning, everyone always starts hating me eventually. They start picking on me and—They stop being _nice_.”

“And you think your friend will do the same?”

“Why wouldn’t she? I gave her a reason not to like me.”

“Why would she hate you for standing up for yourself?” Leon stands up, a frown on his face. “I mean, yeah, yeah, violence is no good or whatever, you made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. If she can’t find it in herself to forgive you, maybe she’s not a friend worth keeping around.”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” Hop glares. “She’s great! She’s a good person. If there’s anyone not worth keeping around, it’s _me_.”

“Hey, _relax_ , kiddo.” Raihan rubs soothing circles onto his back. “Lee’s just trying to say that if she’s really your friend, she’ll hear you out first before making any hasty decisions. If she doesn’t want to be friends, you’ve gotta respect that. But if she does, let her. You’re making her mind up without her say. Don’t you think that’s unfair to her?”

“I…I-I guess it is.” Hop agrees glumly. “But what if she doesn’t…?”

“Then that’s that. You move on. There are plenty of people in Galar, Hop. Lots of mean folk, but lots of good ones, too. Besides, you’ve made plenty of friends already. You’ve got Sonia, the cleverest and most amazing scientist lady ever, you’ve got me, the big scary dragon man who thinks you’re the coolest kid ever, you’ve got your bro—“

“—he doesn’t count—“

“Of course he does. Just because you’re brothers, doesn't always make you friends. Lucky you, you’ve got one who wants to be very best friends with you.” Leon nods, grinning from ear to ear. “And you've got the eight _mightiest dragons_ on the planet with ya. Even if you lose this gal, the rest of us’ll do our best to help you and support you and make sure you never have to be alone ever again. Bullies trying to get on your nerves? They _can’t_. We’ll be there to scare ‘em off. Having trouble with your homework? Sonia’s a phone call away. Scary monsters under your bed? Arthur’ll torch ‘em and Lulu will sweep up the mess and toss ‘em in the trash. But if you don’t lose her, then that means you’ve got one more person to let you know how great you are and how much fun it is to be around you.”

“Y-You really think so?”

“The Great Raihan cannot tell a lie.” He swears solemnly, holding a hand to his heart. “For if he does, he will activate his curse, and turn into a Togepi.”

“A Togepi?”

“Yes. To be specific, _a fairy type_.” He shudders. “My worst nightmare. Hell on Earth, really.”

“…all right, then.” Hop relents, sitting up straight. “I’ll…I’ll explain myself and respect her choice. If not, then that’s okay. If yes, then that’s great.”

“You’ve got this, Hop!” Leon cheers. “Here, let’s do an exercise. I always do this when I wanna hype myself up. Wanna try?”

“O-Okay.”

Leon takes a deep breath and slaps both cheeks twice.

“There. Now you.”

“Wha—That’s what you did when you battled Raihan!”

“And I won, didn’t I?” He swiftly dodges the pillows the gym leader lobs at his head. “Now's the perfect time for it. This is _your_ battle right now. Try it.”

It’s so _silly_. Not that he has anything to lose.

Hop takes his own deep breath and copies Leon, wincing. He slapped himself a _little_ too hard.

“D-Did it work?” He asks, rubbing his cheeks.

“You tell me. Feel more pumped?”

“I’m in _pain_.”

“You’re good to go then!”

There’s a knock at the door.

“She’s here already?” Hop panics. “What do I do?”

“Sit tight.” Leon puffs out his chest, hands on his hips, putting on his champion face. “I’ll get it.”

“No! Let Raihan get it!” Hop begs, tugging on the man’s hoodie. “Please get it. It has to be you.”

“All right?” Confused, he walks off to open the door.

Leon frowns at him.

“Why couldn’t I do it? Are you embarrassed of me?”

“ _Yes_. Can you go? Like, hide in your room or something? Or stand in the corner and act like a plant?”

“Why? I think I should be around to supervise—“

Hop hears voices down the hall.

“Hide!” He pleads. “Please!”

Left with no other choice, Leon rushes towards the terrace, opens and shuts the door behind him just as Marnie enters the room.

“Your leg is _actually_ broken?” Is the first thing she says, rushing over to him. She eyes it with worry. “I thought you were _lying_.”

“I-It’s only my ankle. It’s sprained, not broken.”

“Is that from the fight?”

“No, it’s from—It’s completely unrelated. You have my homework?”

“Sure.” She tugs it out of her bag and hands it over.

They stare at each other.

Marnie is the first to break the tense silence.

“This is Hammerlocke Stadium.” She glances around the room, pausing when she spots Leon at the same time Hop does, standing right outside the glass windows, watching them with a menacing look in his eyes, arms folded against his chest. The rest of the Pokémon have joined him, watching their exchange with curiosity. “…You and the Champion live here.”

“Yeah.”

“At Hammerlocke Stadium.”

“Y-Yes.”

“With Gym Leader Raihan.

“Yes.”

“He and the Champion live together. And you live with them.”

“Yes.”

A flash of understanding flitters across her minty green eyes.

What exactly she’s understanding, Hop has no clue.

“Gotcha. I get it.” She nods, sending the champion a dirty look before facing Hop once again. “They’re ‘ _rivals’_.”

“They are.”

“Right.” She sits beside him. Cutting straight to the point, Marnie gets right into it. “What did you mean by what you said? Why would you think this is about _you_?”

“Y-You were trying to stop me.” Hop clutches his shirt. “I didn’t listen and I—I _hit_ _him_ , Marnie. I _hurt_ him. That’s _wrong_. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have listened to you and I didn’t. I’m—You probably shouldn’t be friends with me. What if I do it again? I don’t want to hurt _you_.”

“You won’t.”

“But what if—“

“Stop talkin’ like that.” She grabs his hands. They’re trembling. “You’re _not_ gonna do that again, yer _not_ gonna hurt me and yer _not_ gonna convince me to stop being friends with ya. Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have hit him, but he was gettin’ on yer nerves. Anyone would snap after gettin’ bothered as much as you’ve been. But _that’s it_. That’s all there is to it. You learned yer lesson, right? You won’t do it again, right? Buck up. Stop worryin’ yourself silly about things that haven’t ‘appened or won’t _ever_ happen. Everything’s _fine_. I don’t hate you. I’m not _going_ _to_ hate you. If you mess up again, that’s fine. I’ll prolly mess up plenty, too. But that’s what friends are for, ain’t they? We’ve gotta keep each other going and call each other out when it’s warranted and just—be good to each other. You’ve been good to me, Hop. Let me be good to you, too.”

“M- _Marnie_ —“ Hop sobs, holding his arms out. Her smile is tinged with exasperation as she hugs him, allowing him to cry into her shoulder. “I-I’m _sorry_.”

“It’s okay, Hop.” She shushes him, patting him on the back. “We’re good. Nothin' wrong with ya. Nothin’ wrong with me. We’re okay. Everythin’s fine.”

“R-Really?”

“Sure.” She leans back to look at him. “You’ve really gotta stop lettin’ your imagination run off in the worst possible direction. Have some faith in me, yeah?”

“Sorry.”

“And stop apologizin’ so much.” She pokes him on the nose. “You don’t gotta be sorry for everything, ‘specially when you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Sor— _Right_. You’re _right_.”

“Try to be.” She grins. Hop returns it.

Until he notices something off.

“Wait, where’s Koko?” He glances around. “Did you…not bring her?”

“I did.”

“…You were speaking that entire time without her.” Hop says dumbly, looking back at her. “You didn’t need help.”

“That speaks volumes ‘bout our friendship don’t it?” Marnie’s cheeks flush. “I, um, I trust ya, and I feel safe and comfortable ‘round ya. Don’t really need her if I’m not nervous.”

She holds her hand out expectantly. Hop laces their fingers together.

“I guess not.” He says bashfully, a pleasant warmth creeping through his hand, up his arms, and enveloping his entire body. Marnie’s so nice and amazing. He really lucked out with her. “But where is she?”

“Cake?” Raihan suddenly pops into the room, looking pleased as a peach. On his shoulder stands Koko, holding up a saucer with her own slice. They could not resemble one another more. “I made tea, too.”

“…Would you like to stay for some?” Hop asks shyly. “I’d like it if you did.”

“If you’re invitin’ me, then sure. Ta. S’long as you can get him—“ She points towards the terrace, where the champion is now grinning wholeheartedly, one arm slung around Arthur’s neck, the other around Mordred. “To stop _smilin_ ’ like that.

* * *

Hop can’t get him to stop grinning, but they _do_ have cake and tea together.

“You know each other?”

“Kinda.” Marnie sips from her cup daintily. “He knows my bro. He’s a gym leader, too.”

“Aw, c’mon, Marnie. Don’t be cold.” Raihan nuzzles Koko affectionately, the Morpeko returning the gesture. From beyond the glass, Dee sends him the dirtiest look. Hop makes a note to be extra cuddly with her later. “I’ve known her since she was a baby. If you’d told me you were friends, you could’ve invited her over earlier.”

“Sorr—er— _Yeah_.” Hop corrects himself. “I should have.”

“It’s fine.” Marnie reassures him, glancing over at Leon, who’s licking the frosting off his fork. “Hey, Mr. Champion.”

“Hm?” He looks up, surprised at being addressed directly. “Yes?”

Hop tenses. He doesn’t doubt Marnie isn’t exactly pleased to be in the same room as him. That’s why he sent Leon out in the first place. He doesn’t want them to fight. Marnie could probably take him on one on one, but he’s had just about enough of violence for the rest of his life. He doesn’t want her wasting her energy on something like that.

Except, he really shouldn’t be surprised by how Marnie always manages to surprise him.

“I’ve gotta apologize for not properly protectin’ Hop.” She says. “I should have did more for him instead of telling him to ignore it. I promise, I won’t let it happen again.”

“Marnie—“ Hop tries to tell her it isn’t necessary, that she doesn’t need to fight his battles, but she continues on over him.

“But I want you to know somethin’.” Her eyes go steely. “I’ll protect him better than you ever did or could. He ain’t gonna come cryin’ to you, ‘cause _I’ll_ be there for him. He don’t need someone lookin’ to make a copy outta him, ‘cause Hop is _Hop_ and not anyone else. He don’t gotta be you, because he’s at his best when he’s _himself_.”

She outright glowering at him now.

Hop nervously glances between her and Leon, who’s meeting her stare head on, expression devoid of any particular emotion.

Until he smiles, that is.

“All right.” He says, holding his hands up in apparent defeat. “Thank you for looking out for my brother, Miss Marnie. I’ve never been good at it, but I want to be. I hope you’ll keep being good mates to each other while I figure out how to prove myself to you. To the both of you.”

Marnie scoffs.

“Of course we will.” She slings an arm over Hop’s shoulder and pulls him close. “You better get used to seein' me around, ‘cause I don’t plan on leavin’ him any time soon.”

“Me neither.” Leon states decisively.

“Same.” Raihan chimes in, Koko waving her paws around in agreement as well.

Hop's not used to having this much open support.

He wonders if he'll ever get used to it.


	15. what it means to love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hop returns to school.

_to my sweetest of whipped dreams,_

_we meet again! through paper and pen, we meet again._

_the magic of written word isn’t anything to be underestimated. i don’t think i’ve ever appreciated it as much as i do right now._ _i used to think it was best reserved for saccharine love stories for fools who could weave words better than they could take one step in front of the other._

_when i was younger, it was something of a fad. write a sickeningly sweet poem, catch an applin, and hand it over to whoever was unfortunate enough to catch your eye._

_those poor applin. you wouldn’t believe how many of them would get tossed out, still in their pokéballs or just like that. they started regulating them at some point, but i’m not sure if that’s still the case. mummy’s never been one for keeping up with things like that._

_your father on the other hand, he was oddly inclined to try them out whenever he could._

_i think i’m getting ahead of myself, though. let’s start at the beginning, from the time that we met._

_he bought me those malasadas i recall writing?_

_i’ve never been fond of sweets, but those were truly delicious. i was practically starving, so maybe that played into it, but i don’t think that’s all it was. i’ve heard it said eating with others fills the stomach and the heart. there’s a reason i always made an effort to eat with you. i thought, even if my cooking was horrid, at the very least, we could both fill our hearts with whatever else was left._

_it made me happy, watching you eat so enthusiastically. you always looked so content, even if mummy’s food was bad. thank you for that, hop. thank you for sparing my feelings._

_i’m going off into the reeds here, though._

_your father took me to a shop close by and bought me those delicious malasadas. i ate them with so much gusto. i was starving. i nearly cried._

_actually, i think i did._

_i did cry, hop._

_arceus, i did._

_he panicked and started trying to make me feel better by talking about all sorts of silly, idiotic, stupid things i had no interest in. about his pokémon, about the sea, about the sun and moon and stars and how the earth would cease to exist within a billion years because of some supernova nonsense. he rambled and rambled and rambled. and i cried and cried and cried, until i was finished with my malasadas and we left and he took me by the shore and started apologizing. he’d only meant to make me feel better, he said._

_i don’t know how long i cried for. i can’t remember._

_i know that by the time i stopped, the sun was rising. that i saw a primarina jump out of the ocean, singing the prettiest song i’d ever heard. that my feet were aching from standing for so long. that i probably needed to get back to the inn before someone noticed i was gone and broke into my room to steal my stuff._

_as for your father._

_he stayed. your father stayed through all of that. i only noticed he was still there because he started snoring._

_the fool dropped his bag onto the sand and started sleeping! i was crying and he fell asleep on me!_

_i thought, what a no good layabout! i was so insulted he wasn’t awake for me to berate him for it, i tossed what little money i had on me beside him and left. it wasn’t nearly enough to cover the malasadas, but i figured the honor of seeing blessedly maidenly tears run down my beautiful face was repayment enough. it should be. your mummy’s looks are worth far more than entire vaults stocked to the brim with gold._

_after that, i was sure we wouldn’t meet again. i was positive of it. the chances were slim. alola may be small, but the odds were still against it._ _not that the universe cares for anything like statistics and probability. it does what it wills and gives you only what it wants and not what you ask for._

_i traveled alola. it’s a splendid place, full of exotic wildlife, beautiful flora (i think that’s where my interest in flowers truly unraveled), out of this world scenery, and a mesh of different cultures. i truly wish i could’ve taken you. i should have done anything i could to take you. you would have loved it. perhaps you can still go, even if it’s without me._

_eventually, i ended up in malie city._

_it’s a nice city. reminded me a lot of johto. very traditional architecture._

_once i settled down and started looking around town however, i realized something very important._

_i was hungry. and what did malie city have?_

_a malasada shop._

_i can’t really explain this at all, hop. as I said, i’m not especially fond of sweets at all and yet, i was drawn there. the memories of those malasadas wouldn’t leave me. i needed to have another! i could barely afford one and surely, that money would be better served elsewhere, but i figured, to the heavens with it! i was hungry and i wanted a malasada. i would be getting one whether i regretted it later or not! i rushed into the store ready to demolish one._

_and just who was having a grand old time with that brat of a charmander not a few tables over?_

_your father._

_he noticed me almost immediately. i did my darnedest to ignore him, pretended he wasn’t there, because i was embarrassed! mortified! this stranger had seen me cry! i allowed myself to cry in front of him! i’d never even cried in front of my own mother! not once!_

_but he’d seen me and that was that._

_he strode over with his mon and started chatting me up. told the cashier to put it on his tab. i told him i didn’t need his charity. he told me it wasn’t charity if it was repayment for my lovely company._

_just recalling those stupid and cringe worthy lines of his has me in physical pain. he was shameless, hop. he said what he wanted, whether anyone asked for his opinion or not. a total git._

_but mummy was weak to malasadas, so she accepted another dozen of them and figured she was willing to set a little bit of her time aside to humor the fool with the charmander who kept trying to sneak bites of her malasadas._

_i’m not cruel i gave the brat one don’t worry sweetheart_

_we sat outside and he started telling me about himself. i never asked, but it’s not like that mattered to him._

_he told me malie city was where he was born and raised. that he, like myself, had been traveling until recently. he worked at the kantonian gym, because it was the only place strong trainers ever bothered showing up in alola. the kahunas (they’re like gym leaders i think?) weren’t always available and he’d gotten tired of winning against them. he traveled to battle leagues and find trainers who wouldn’t be a bore to beat._

_such an arrogant man. being a champion was never enough for him._

_he told me he returned to visit his family, but would be heading out again. eventually. he was a seasoned traveler. staying in one place wasn’t anything that interested him._ _he never could keep his feet still. always running off in one direction, not bothering to check to see if he was leaving anything behind. whether it was his wallet or his pokéballs or his bag. everything. he’d forget his own hands if they weren’t attached to him._

_so forgetful. always so forgetful._

_then, the conversation turned to me. i wasn’t very keen on sharing, but your father always had a way with making it feel like it was all right to. i don’t know what it was, but things never felt very difficult to say around him. they never felt stupid or idiotic or foolish. whatever mindless idea you could think of, he’d listen and smile and say it was great and he was rooting for you._

_he never judged me for anything. not once. no matter how childish i behaved, no matter the cruel things i said, he never once held anything against me._

_i told him i was from galar. that i was traveling for the sake of it. i didn’t tell him about anything before that, but i did tell him i wanted to see the sights. it was vague but straightforward enough not to be a non-answer._

_he was so impressed. he’d never been to galar, apparently. didn’t know much about it at all. he asked me to describe it to him. i told him if he wanted to know about it, he should see it for himself. i was being petty, but he took it in stride and told me he would. he’d add it to his list and see it for himself._

_we stayed a little longer. he talked more about himself. when he asked about me, i kept it short and sweet._

_what was there to say? i was a homeless hitchhiker who hated her parents, had no friends, and not a dollar to her name. what was so great about that?_

_he was so different. so confident in himself. like nothing could ever stop him. like he could make a plan on the fly and everything would work itself out. like the universe would part oceans for him if he so much as hinted they were an inconvenience._

_how could anyone act that way? the last time i’d felt confident in anything was when i left home, and that was only so far as the road to the train station._

_before we parted ways he asked if i was sticking around longer. i told him i was, but i couldn’t be sure. i went with the wind. if it said north, i’d be blown along with the rest of the debris at its will._

_he told me he’d keep an eye out. i left and that was that. i thought that was that._

_of course, that wasn’t that._

_i stayed in malie far longer than i probably should have. i think i was lonely. he’d spoken to me like a friend and i hadn’t had very many of those. the people in galar i hung out with were more kindred spirits. acquaintances by convenience. the people i met on my travels, i wouldn’t be meeting them again. i’d be a one-time conversation starter and completely forgotten afterwards._

_i didn’t have anyone. not really._

_i wonder if that makes me pathetic._

_a stranger held out their hand and i desperately clung to it because i craved some form of human interaction that wasn’t warding off thieves or negotiating a discount at the front desk of a shoddy inn._

_i’m not sure._

_all i know is that when i saw him again at malie garden, feeding the magikarp in the lake when it was strictly against regulation, i approached him._

_he was surprised, but he smiled at me and we spoke again and that’s how i ended up sticking around for even longer than a few days._

_i spent three months there, hop. three._

_i spent three months camping out in the wilderness before he found out and got mad at me for not telling him i didn’t have anywhere to live because i spent all my money and was living off berries all because i was so happy to have made a friend for the first time in my entire life._

_he let me stay with him after that._

_it was great fun._

_your father was an excellent cook, unlike me. i think i cried when he whipped up the first home cooked meal i’d had in forever. he never said anything about it, but he didn’t fall asleep on me this time either._

_i think i fell asleep on him, actually._

_i met all of his pokémon. a charizard, dragonite, kingdra, and the little charmander that made a habit of forcing me to share with him. it took a while for them to get used to me. i don’t think they ever properly did._

_except the bratty little charmander, maybe. he was naughty and mischievous, but could be sweet when he wanted to be. he liked to sit beside me whenever I watched the telly. i think i liked him the most._

_i’m not sure how long we lived like that._

_i think it was a few more months before your father got up one morning and told me it was time for him to go._

_i was disappointed, because i’d come to enjoy feeling like i had somewhere to belong, but understood that i couldn’t be reliant on him forever. he’d been more than generous with me. far more than i likely deserved._

_i wished him safe travels and said i’d be gone in a fortnight._

_he gave me this odd look when i said that. he looked so confused. i assumed it was because he wanted me gone sooner. i tried to offer. he wouldn’t let me._

_i don’t think you can imagine my surprise when he told me, of course you’re not. you’re coming with me, aren’t you?_

_i think that was the moment for me._

_that was the moment i realized, ah, i love this man. i had a feeling i did, but it hadn’t been apparent to me until then._

_he’s an oaf and a fool and a total git, but i love him._

_i went with him._

_we visited to all sorts of regions. fiore, almia, oblivia. we backtracked through the ones we’d already been through._

_it was so much fun, hop. i think it was the most fun i’d had in a while. in all my life. your father made it fun. he made everything fun. he made everything feel like the most grandiose occasion. like a monumental event._

_every cool rock was a treasure of the utmost quality to be cherished and saved. every zubat sighting was a sign of good fortune. every stumble and set back was but another opportunity to see things through in a better way._

_i stopped looking for ho-oh at one point. completely forgot that had been my goal. forgot everything else._

_all i cared about was him. about seeing his eyes light up at every new discovery, every battle with a trainer he deemed worth his time, all the antics his pokémon got into and had to be saved from. all of it. i wanted to remember it all, keep everything close to my heart and lock it away forever, so i’d never forget._

_of course, i assumed this was completely one-sided._

_nobody had ever spared me a second-glance. nobody had ever treated me like i mattered. a few strangers along the rode are hardly the people you should turn to for that sort of thing. i wasn’t anything special. i wasn’t wanted._

_i never imagined he could feel the same. i thought that was all it would ever be. just that. just looking after him and hoping he wouldn’t leave me too far behind._

_that wasn’t all it ended up being._

_i remember it so vividly._

_not to weigh you down with all the saccharine, lovey-dovey details, but we were camping out under the stars. in unova, if i recall correctly. it was late and i was putting out the fire, telling him to get to sleep because he mentioned wanting to do some early morning training._ _your father was next to useless if he hadn’t gotten a solid eight hours. it annoyed the life out of his kingdra. she didn’t have the patience for that behavior. it put her in a foul mood and made her snappish, which usually ended in her and his dragonite bickering._

_his charizard only ever made everything worse and his charmander, the poor dear, he held no authority over them at all. they thought him a runt. never paid him any mind, no matter how hard he tried._

_where was i going with this?_

_oh right._

_i was telling him to get to sleep. that i could pack everything myself this once and he could do it next time to repay the favor._

_when i turned around, he was looking at me. i asked him what was wrong._

_arceus, hop._

_what he said next made me want to toss him off the nearest bridge._ _he’s such a git._

_what’s wrong, he said, is that i haven’t put a ring on your finger yet._

_just remembering it makes me so angry. he was incorrigible. he’s always been that way. not a shred of delicacy to his manner._

_naturally, i figured he was joking._

_that’s not funny, i told him._

_my blood was boiling. here i was devoting myself to his well-being and he was sitting there joking about it._

_that’s what i thought it was. a big joke at my expense._

_i shut myself in my tent. he spent the night hollering at me, begging for me to hear him out. to explain why i was upset. he was being serious._

_i didn’t believe him._

_why would i? that’s not that sort of thing that’s said to me. that’s not the sort of thing anyone would ever say to me._

_eventually he got tired of that and fell silent. i figured he must have gone back to his tent, but when i unzipped mine to take a peek, he was lying on the ground, already asleep._

_he was such an idiot._

_i said as much. i called him an idiot about a million times before he woke up and asked me to hear him out. to not be upset. if i hated the idea that much, we could pretend he never mentioned it. i asked if he meant it. he told me he did. that all he wanted was to be with me and see the world with me and to keep on getting called out by me, because it made him happy and if he’s happy and i’m happy, shouldn’t we make an effort to make it official?_

_we weren’t even courting, hop! how could he make anything official if he hadn’t even bothered with properly courting and winning my heart and then tentatively asking for the honor and privilege of wedding me?_

_absolutely not! no way! i wouldn’t allow it!_

_i said if he was looking to even be considered for receiving the opportunity to tie himself to me, he would need to prove himself worthy of such an honor. i was not playing games!_ _i expected to be courted like the proud, galarian lady i am. to be presented with a ring made of properly mined firestone. before that though, he would need to earn my favor and take me on outings and allow my person to be properly romanced, wined and dined._

_i could not allow him to put the cart before the rapidash. not me. no, no. absolutely not._

_and that’s what he did. he properly courted me, gave me plenty of odd gifts, mined the most vibrant firestone i’ve ever seen while we were in sinnoh, and properly proposed to me in kalos._

_anistar city. right in front of the sundial at the break of dawn._

_after that, we finally went to galar._

_and after that_

_your brother leon was born._

_let’s leave it there._

~~_i ca_ ~~

~~_nt_ ~~

~~_no righ no_ ~~

_hugs and kisses_

_mummy_

* * *

“I…I don’t get it.”

Corvisquire doesn’t seem to either, by the way he cocks his head to the side.

Hop runs a hand over his feathers. They’re not as shimmery as they should be, despite his efforts. The bottle of feather treatment says it’ll take a few tries, but he was hoping otherwise. Corvisquire’s sparse visits aren’t exactly conducive to application recommendations.Maybe he could drop by the store again to see if there were any other products that could work faster. Preferably _instantly_.

“It sounds like…like she really loved him. But if that’s true then why…” Hop trails off, more confused than ever. If his mother loved his father, and he seemed to love her in return, then what reason could they have had to…to stop being together?

If they’d gotten married, then surely that must have meant they were willing to stay with one another until the very end, right? Until death do them part? Couldn’t that have been a possibility?

Why did his father have to go and ruin everything? His mother loved him. She would have supported him no matter what, the same way she supported Hop.

Maybe _he_ could have convinced Leon into coming back. Maybe if Leon had a proper family, he wouldn’t have left in the first place, o-or he would have renounced his title and came back and Hop would have two more people to turn to and to protect him from all those horrible kids. He could have learned to like battling, too! He could have been like his father and brother! A champion just like them!

They could have been a _family_.

What was the point of giving her a ring if he was going to ruin _everything_?

“I don’t get it.” He repeats, frustrated. None of this makes _sense_. “Why? Why would he hurt her? Why would he stop loving her? Why did she have to get married to someone as useless as him?”

A nibble to the finger is the only response he gets. Corvisquire eyes him with his typical omnipresent glower.

“You want me to settle down?” Hop releases a heavy sigh. “Sorry. I’m getting worked up again. It’s just…Mummy always said people get married and have babies when they love each other very much. Didn’t they?”

It’s not adding up. There's no point in tearing his hair out at this point, though. For now, all he can do is wait for the next letter and try not to be too impatient.

“Do you have anyone like that?” Hop asks the Corvisquire, in an attempt to get his mind off his frustration. “Someone’s who’s important to you? Or who _was_. I guess.”

Corvisquire shakes his head fervently.

“Really? Then…where is it that you’re coming from? Where do you stay when you aren’t here? Isn’t anyone taking care of you?”

This time, he keeps his head perfectly still.

Hop frowns.

“Are you not allowed to tell me?”

A nod.

“Will you ever be able to tell me?”

Corvisquire huffs in annoyance, irritated by his prying. Looks like he’s pushed more than is appreciated.

“That’s okay.” Hop relents. Maybe one day he’d find out the origins of his mail-carrier. “You don’t have to tell me. Be careful, though. I don’t know where you’re coming from, but it must be far. You always look a little ruffled when you get here.”

Hop gets that same arrogant preening he’s grown accustomed to. The Pokémon may as well be able to speak for how clearly he gets his thoughts across with his disdainful looks and grumpy chirps.Hop wonders if it’s meant to make up for his size. If his reaction to the others is anything to go by, he isn’t exactly confident around Pokémon who tower over him.

If he were ever to evolve, that would be a completely different story. Hop recalls the various taxi rides he, Leon and the Chairman had taken through Wyndon. Corviknight were certainly nothing to scoff at, their stature and presence enough to intimidate even the scariest of ‘mons.

“Are you leaving?” He asks when the bird begins to stretch. “Have a safe flight.”

The Corvisquire nods.

He contemplates Hop’s fingers for a moment.

Much to his surprise, the Corvisquire offers them a single nudge before taking off towards…wherever it is he’s going.

“Huh…” Hop flexes his fingers experimentally.

A painless encounter for the first time. That was progress, wasn’t it? Perhaps next time, the scathing looks wouldn’t be quite as harsh. Hop wouldn’t count his eggs before they hatched, but a little hopefulness couldn’t hurt.

“Hop?" Someone calls his name. "Ready for school?”

“Yeah!”

Hop heads for the door to get his shoes on. Leon and Raihan meet him there, the latter looking especially nervous.

“Sure you don’t want me to come along?” Raihan asks, an unsure frown on his face. “I can drop you off. Make sure nobody’s lyin' in wait.”

“They won’t be.” Hop says plainly. The rest of his classmates weren’t really conspirators. Nervous bystanders fit them better. “Dennis is a coward. He was crying before I landed the first punch.”

“Damn.” Leon blurts out, looking strangely proud. “My bro’s a scrapper.”

“ _Leon_.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “Careful, ‘kay? Call us if anything.”

“Got it.”

“Keep your head up.” Raihan quickly adds. “That’s all you can do. Keep it up and don’t let anything or anyone bring it down.”

“Aye aye, cap’n.” Hop salutes him, trying to give the impression of confidence he doesn’t actually have. “I’ll report back at fifteen hundred hours.”

“We’ve got the appointment at half past four.” Leon reminds him. “Don’t dally.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hop mimics with his own eye roll. “Is that it?”

“No. One more thing.” Leon grins, flashing his Charizard hand sign. “Have a nice day.”

“…you guys, too.” With a nod in both their directions, Hop leaves, keeping his head up.

It’s like Raihan said.

It’s all he can do.

* * *

“Ready?”

“As much as I can be.”

“You’ll be okay.” Marnie squeezes his hand. Koko offers a battle cry to pump him up. It does help slightly, if only for how adorable she looks giving it. “We’re in this together.”

“Y-Yeah.” A tremulous breath escapes him. “We are.”

What would a week after suspension for his brash actions result in? How would his classmates view him? Would he be mocked again? Ostracized? Hated? Feared?

None of those sounded appealing.

All he wanted was to live in peace. Why couldn’t they understand that? He didn’t want to fight anybody. He didn’t want to hurt anybody.Couldn’t they all get along? Or ignore him? He'd take being ignored. That could be nice, too.

“Let’s go.” He decides after another deep breath. It's now or never. Better to tear off the bandage instead of cowering in the hall for another ten minutes. “I’ve got this.”

“You do.” Marnie pats his back and leads the way. Hop follows after her.

_Keep your head up. Keep your head up._

The chatter stops.

_Keep your head up, Hop, Keep it up._

He feels eyes on him. It’s making his skin crawl.

_Keep it up, Hop. Just keep it._

He wants to look at his feet but Raihan said to keep his head up. He needs to keep it up. To be unaffected, at least on the outside.

He takes his seat beside Marnie and begins to take his things out, ignoring everything else.

_Keep it up. Up, up, up, up, up—_

“Hop!”

He blinks at the abrupt call of his name. Sophie bounds up to his desk, bouncing on her heels, her cheeks pink.

“You’re back!” She says, a cheery smile on her face. “I’m so glad! One week sure is a long time! It was so weird when the teach would ask questions and you weren’t here to answer! Super awkward! They called on me a few times but I didn’t know the answers and kept hoping you’d answer but you weren’t _here_ so I said that water Pokémon have gills because that’s how they say hi to each other!” She covers her face in embarrassment. “It’s _not_! They use them to suck in water!”

“Um, they filter the oxygen out of the water.” Hop responds awkwardly. “It’s not the water they breathe. It’s the oxygen.”

“Aw man!” Another classmates groans from across the room. “I got that wrong on the test!”

_“Me too!”_

_“Danggit!”_

“You _see?_ ” Sophie despairs, slumping over his desk. “We were a _mess_ without you! The teach only explains stuff because _you_ ask, and since we don’t know what we don’t know, we don’t ask and then we do bad! Thank goodness you’re back!”

“ _Thank goodness_.” Marnie mutters. Hop glances at her. She sighs. “ _Group project. Had her and Dennis. Nightmare_.”

_“Sorry.”_

_“Share yer biscuits and I’ll forgive ya.”_

_“Deal.”_

_“Ace.”_

“Hop.”

Another voice joins the fray. It earns a grimace from Hop. He was really hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with _him_ any time soon. Wasn’t mutual ignoring enough?

Apparently not.

Dennis still has bruises on his face. They turn Hop’s stomach to ice.

Arceus, _he_ did that.

Dennis didn’t deserve that.

Even if he kinda _absolutely_ did.

“Can I talk to you?” Dennis asks quietly, pointing towards the hall. “M’not gonna try anything. Wanna talk is all.”

Marnie grabs Hop's wrist.

“He ain’t goin’ _anywhere_ with _you_.” She spits, tone dripping with venom. “Sod _off_.”

Dennis flinches.

Hop sighs. This isn’t how this should be going at all.

“Okay.” He says, prying Marnie’s hand off him. She gives him an incredulous look. “It’s okay, Marnie. He just wants to talk.”

“But Hop—“

“It’s fine.” He offers a reassuring smile. “He knows I can defend myself.”

That gets a snicker out of her. It’s not anything they should be laughing about, but if he’s going to put this incident behind him, poking fun at it sounds like a good way to start.

Hop follows Dennis out into the hall. He doesn’t fool himself into thinking their classmates aren’t listening in. He catches a glimpse of Marnie’s pigtail by the door and shakes his head. What else did he expect?

Dennis is looking at his feet, wringing his wrists. Hop doesn’t say anything. Gives him the time to think through whatever it is he wants to say. If it’s another fight he wants to pick, Hop won’t be caught off guard.

He eyes the classrooms down the hall. No supervision, although there are two professors chatting at the end of the corridor. He doesn’t recognize one of them, but that’s not really the point. They aren’t looking, but he can easily grab their attention if need be. There’s also a window. He could jump out and scale the wall to the other side of the building. Plenty of possibilities. Which to choose, though? Which one would be best—

Dennis finally speaks.

“I didn’t know your mum was…I didn’t know.” He isn’t looking at Hop. The words are clearly weighing on him. “I didn’t know and that…that doesn’t excuse what I said. I’m…I’m sorry, Hop. I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t know—I _don’t_ _know_ anything about you and that…it wasn’t right.” He looks up, meeting Hop’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m really, _really_ sorry.”

Hop stands speechless.

...Huh.

His first apology from a schoolmate. One directed _at_ _him_.

Talk about unexpected.

“But that’s…I don’t know why I did any of those things.” Dennis continues. “I mean, I _know_ but it doesn’t—I thought—Your brother’s the _champion_.” He sighs. “I don’t know what I thought. I thought you had him and that he could…p-protect you and do everything a brother should do. I…I don’t know. I kept thinking of that and it made me—It upset me.”

“Why?” Hop asks. What about that was upsetting? Not that Dennis knew, but it wasn’t like Hop had been around him for long enough to be protected.

“Because…because it made me think of my dad.” Dennis chokes out, his hands are trembling. “I—he’s not around. He—Like your mum, he’s…he’s not around anymore. A-And it made me so _mad_ that the champion—You have the _champion_. That’s like…the greatest dad anyone can _have_.”

“He’s not my dad.“

“I _know_.” Dennis rubs at his face. “I know he’s not, but—That’s what a dad does, right? He protects you and fights for you and is strong and n-nice and—You _have_ him and I don’t have my dad anymore and—“ He wipes his eyes furiously. “I got jealous ‘cause I thought you had it easy and you _don’t,_ because you lost your mum like I lost my d-dad and it h-hurts just as bad, doesn’t it?”

“…yeah.” Hop replies softly. “It hurts a lot.”

“It _does_.” Dennis nods. “I’m…I’m sorry, Hop. I was stupid. I hurt you and you didn’t deserve that. I was being stupid and dumb and jealous for no reason. I’m…I’m _sorry_. Can you…could you forgive me?”

Hm.

“No.” Hop says bluntly. Dennis flinches, but he’s not done. “I can’t forgive you for what you said about my mother. You didn’t know, but it was wrong all the same. Even if she was alive, you had no right to say any of that. Her being dead shouldn’t have made a difference.”

“Y-Yeah.” Dennis swallows. “You’re right. Shouldn’t have…shouldn’t have said it either way.”

“I don’t care too much about you hitting me, but I’ve been told I _should_ , so you were wrong to do that, too.”

“I-I was.”

Hop looks away for a moment, pursing his lips.

“…I can’t forgive you for any of that, but I’m not going to hate you for it. I won’t hold it against you either.” He bites the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry for hitting you, too. You didn’t deserve that, no matter how angry I was.”

“I think I did.”

“I’m not the one who’s saying it.” Hop grimaces. “I don’t want to fight you anymore. I don’t want you to fight me anymore either. If you can agree to that, I can give you a chance. And if you want, you can give me one, too.”

“I do.” Dennis nods. “I want to.”

“Okay.” Hop holds out his hand. “Shake on it.”

“‘kay.”

Dennis does and and it’s final.

“…y’know. You’re really strong.” Dennis takes back his hand and rubs it with the opposite one.

“If I kept getting stronger, do you think I’d be able to lift a sofa?”

“Probably.”

“It _is_ genetic.” Hop mutters, not sure how to feel about that. He glances back at Dennis, who’s awkwardly shuffling his feet. “Y’know…”

“Yeah?”

“…I think Raihan’s a whole lot cooler than the Champion, too.”

Dennis blinks. Hop’s statement has clearly startled him.

“What? Why? Isn’t he your brother?”

“I like to be objective.” Hop scratches his cheek. “He’s nicer, too.”

“You’ve _talked_ to him?”

“Kinda.” He can’t really say that the guy fixed his ankle up, likes asking him to try his cooking,and enjoys buying him dragon jammies, can he? "He’s pretty ace.”

“Whoa.” Dennis scratches his head. “That _is_ ace.”

“Do you…would you want a signed card from him or something?” Honestly, what is he _doing_? How are you supposed to treat a bully who wants to turn a new leaf? Hop can barely treat a _friend_ right. “I can get one for you. If you want.”

“Could you?”

“Yeah. For, um, nearly breaking your jaw and all.”

“You don’t have to.” Dennis rubs his cheek, wincing. “Don’t hurt much anymore.”

“Do you want one or not?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay.” Hop points back to the classroom. “Let’s…go back. I guess.”

“Yeah.” Dennis agrees and follows after him. He heads to the front to join Sophie, who throws an arm over his shoulder and starts praising him. He goes red in the face. She laughs, teasing him about it.

Hop joins Marnie, who pats him on the back.

“Think that’s called closure.” She tells him. “Reckon it’s supposed to make you feel better. Do ya?”

“…Yeah.” He doesn’t feel like vomiting anymore, if that’s what she means by better. “I think I do.”

“Good.” She leans over to whisper. "Just so ya know, I was gettin’ ready to haul a chair over. In case ya needed backup. I’ve got good aim.”

“Please don’t ever do that.”

“Can’t make any promises.”

The bell rings. Everyone takes their seats. Strangely enough, the teacher still hasn’t arrived.

The explanation does, though.

“Excuse me, kiddos!” A middle-aged woman appears though the doors. She seems frazzled but sports a kind smile. A welcome change from the scowl they’d all come to know and abhor. “Sorry I’m late! Wasn’t sure about the lesson plans and had to ask but now I’m totally up to speed.” She sets a laptop onto the front desk and turns her full attention on the class. “To be frank, your previous instructor will no longer be with you. Apparently, they got a job offer at the university! Doing research or something. I’m not sure. I hear he high-tailed it out of here the moment he could. Said it was his dream to work over at the U. Oh, but look at me—“ She laughs. “Gossiping up a storm. Don’t tell anybody I told you. Kiddos aren’t supposed to know, but I think you should. Keeping secrets is how people get hurt!”

 _You don’t know the half of it_ , Hop thinks wryly.

“Ah, but, let’s see here.” She snatches a marker and starts writing on the board. “Call me Ms. Sandy. Got a long last name. Don’t like it much. Sandy’s easier for you to say. I’ll be your professor starting from today.” She tosses the marker onto the desk. “Nice to meet you all. Hope I can make class super fun. I’ve got lots of cool things in store. Experiments and trips and not too many tests. Don’t like ‘em. Any questions?”

About a dozen pairs of tiny hands shoot up.

She calls on them individually and answers as patiently as she can, friendly in all meanings of the word.

Hop faces Marnie, interested on her take on the sudden change, but finds her already staring at him, one of her eyebrows quirked.

“What?”

“This is you, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Hop.” She gives him a flat look. “You’ve been complainin’ about our teach a lot recently. Didn’t you mention it to the champ? To _Raihan_?”

“I…actually, yes. I _did_.” Hop’s brows furrow. “I mean, they went to talk to the school board while I was still suspended. You…you don’t think…?”

“ _Well_.” Marnie points to their new professor, who is coincidentally, the complete opposite of their last one in every way, shape, and form. “Look at her, and look at them posters over there.”

Posters?

Hop shifts his gaze to the front of the room, taking stock of the walls.

And proceeds to muffle a groan into his hands.

There, on either side of the marker board, are two obnoxiously large posters of _Champion Leon_ , his grin shiny and obnoxious as can be, Arthur standing behind him menacingly. Below his image, the words ‘ _IF YOU WANT TO HAVE A CHAMPION TIME, DON’T BE A BULLY. IT’S A CRIME_ ’ are written in large, bold text, outlined to make them pop from any distance.How didn’t he notice them? It’s impossible not to!

“I’m going to strangle him.”

“Why? I like ‘em.” Marnie scoffs. “‘bout time he did somethin’ for society. For _you_.”

“Not like _this_.”

“You can take the champ out of Wyndon, but ya can’t take the Wyndon out of the champ.” She shrugs. “Maybe they do things differently up there. Could be his way of showing he cares.”

“Could be his way of being _annoying_.”

“True. What’s yer take?”

Hop looks back at his brother’s stupid face.

He was obviously going for friendly, but Hop thinks he looks a bit untamed, like when he’s on the pitch. It’s all in his eyes. There’s a threat there if one searches for it.

Not that anyone ever does. His general appearance and demeanor throws off the casual observer.

“…I’m undecided.”

“Fair enough.” Marnie twirls a pen in one hand and scratches Koko’s head with the other. “Either way, he deserves a ta for bein’ decent this one time.”

“Yeah…” Hop rests his cheek on one hand, readying his pencil in the other. “Just this once.”

* * *

Hop gets back to the stadium in a better mood then when he left.

Ms. Sandy had proven herself to be exactly the kind of teacher Hop could enjoy taking lessons from. She gives clear explanations, doesn’t get annoyed when he asks questions, livens lessons up with real-life examples and interesting applications, and assigns homework that’s more than just busy work. It’s only been a day, but he has high hopes.

Of course, nobody could beat Sonia, but she was definitely coming up at a close second. Way better than the chap in Motostoke. Too much coffee running through that one.

He hands Lulu his backpack with an appreciative nuzzle and follows after him to change out of his uniform. He and Leon were going to see their therapist today and Raihan suggested he dress comfortably. He says the subjects can be uncomfortable sometimes, so he may as well be wearing something that can help him feel better about it. Hop’s tempted to dress himself in his really soft Duraludon jammies he’s worn a thousand times over by now. That’s probably a bit much, though. A hoodie and joggers will have to do.

He gets them on and pads off to find Leon. They have plenty of time to get there since the office is only a few blocks over, but it didn’t hurt to talk to him about how _Hop_ would be the one taking point with directions. Not him.

He checks the kitchen. No one.

Checks the living room. Not there either. Checks the terrace. Gets hugged by a bunch of ‘mons, but neither of their trainers are in sight.

No one in the guest room either.

There’s not much there in general, actually. Isn’t Leon using it?Hop’s not what one would call familiar with the champion’s room cleaning habits, and he doesn’t make a habit of encroaching on anybody’s personal quarters, but shouldn’t the room look a little more lived in? There’s not a single sock nor cap nor _anything_ lying around to suggest he’s ever used it. What’s up with that?

Of course, one explanation is that he packed all his things and left Hop, as he’s proven himself capable of, but Arthur is still outside playing tag with Flo, along with the rest of his teammates. He wouldn’t leave his trusty Pokémon behind like that.

Maybe he’s down in the stadium? Or with Raihan in his office?

Hop’s ready to head down and check, maybe ask Sebastian and Camilla if they’ve seen the pair around. Perhaps request one of those yummy biscuits they’re always enthusiastic about sharing with him, when he spots Raihan’s bedroom door.

It’s mysteriously closed.

That’s a little odd. Maybe Raihan’s taking a nap, and Leon went out while he did that?

 _Does_ Raihan take naps, though? He’s usually busy around this time, isn’t he? Not that he wasn’t allowed to be tired every now and then. Hop enjoys taking naps every once in a while, preferably with Arthur, because he makes for a good personal heater and always falls asleep near instantly when Hop pets his horns.

It might be a little rude to wake him up, but if Leon’s gotten lost, they’re going to be late, and Hop doesn’t want to be, because he’s looking forward to getting told how to not be so angry and sad all the time.

He lifts up a fist, ready to knock.

He’s stopped short by the sound of…

Is that… _giggling_?

Is Raihan watching a funny movie or something?

Confident that he at least has to be awake, Hop knocks.

“Raihan?” He speaks loudly. “I’m back. Do you know where Leon is? We’ve gotta go to the therapist.”

He doesn’t get an immediate answer.

“Raihan?”

It’s silent.

Then, a series of muffled curses become audible through the door.

“Raihan?” Hop repeats, concerned. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“ _N-No, sweet pea!_ ” Raihan finally answers. He sounds out of breath. “ _I’ll be out in a sec!_ ”

“Okay.” Hop nods, belatedly realizing that he can’t be seen. “Are you sure you’re not sick? I can get you medicine if you want.”

“ _No, no, I’m fine!_ ” Something thumps against the floor. Another round of curses.

That doesn’t sound like Raihan’s voice this time, though.

It sounds more like—

“ _Leon_?” Hop frowns. “Are you there, too?”

Another silence.

“… _I am._ ”

Hop sighs. Why did the champion have to be like this?

“Why didn’t you say so?” He asks, annoyed. “I thought I was gonna have to go find you. We’ve got some time, but I want you to know that I’m handling the directions.”

“ _Sure, sure_.” His nervous laughter is muffled through the door. “ _Absolutely. You do that_.”

There’s more shuffling and whispers. Hop can’t make out what they’re saying or doing. He wonders how much longer they’re going to take.Getting up from a nap _could_ be tough, though. Couldn’t really blame them for that.

Hop startles as the door slams open. Raihan appears before him. He looks mortified, for whatever reason. His gym uniform is wrinkled, which is strange. He always irons it out to perfection.

“Hi.” He breathes out, cheeks flushed. “Hey, Hopscotch.”

“Hi.” Hop eyes him with concern. He knows he shouldn’t conflate this with his mum’s circumstances, but it’s still worrying. “Are you sure you’re okay…? If you’re sick, you should take some medicine.” 

He turns to run off to the medicine cabinet. Raihan’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Hop, I’m fine.” He insists, his smile comforting. “Don’t worry, okay? Your buddy Raihan is fine. No worries.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“…if you say so.” Hop glances at his head, where his dreadlocks are in disarray. Not a common sight. Refreshing in a sense. Hop likes his headbands just fine, but he looks nice without them, too. “Where’s your headband?”

“Here.” Leon appears at the door, shoving it into Raihan’s hand. His face isn’t nearly as red, although his clothing is an equal state of disorder.

What were they doing?

“What were you doing?" Hop blurts out. “Taking a nap together?”

Raihan wheezes. Leon scratches the back of his neck.

“Uh…huh.” The latter nods. “Something like that.”

“Something like that.” Raihan repeats, pausing in getting his headband back on. “...Hey, Lee?”

“Yeah?”

“Does he…know?”

“Know what?”

Raihan glares.

“… _Oh_.” Leon utters after an instance of thoughtfulness. “You mean, does he _know_.”

“ _Yes_. Does he _know_.”

“Uh…”

“Know what?” Hop frowns. He doesn’t quite like being out of the loop. Adults always do that and it upsets him. “What don’t I know?”

“You didn’t t _ell him_?”

“It didn’t seem important.”

“Import— _are you fucking kidding me, Leon?_ ”

“What did you want me to say?”

“The _truth!_ What, are you _ashamed of—_ ”

“ _No_! _Fuck no_! What the fuck, Rai? Now way. _No._ ”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“He’s just a kid. He doesn’t care about that kinda stuff.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what _is_ the point?”

“He should know about us so he understands that it’s _normal_! That there’s nothing strange or weird about it! _Fuckin’ hell_ , Leon, _what_? You want him to grow up thinkin’ there’s only one way to live your fucking life? That you’re a disgrace otherwise?”

“ _Calm down_ , Raihan.” Leon lays a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, all right? It’s not like that. I just…never got around to it. It slipped my mind and…I don’t know. I thought he’d figure it out by himself. Save us an awkward conversation.”

“Figure _what_ out?” Hop demands, pouting. “What’s there to figure out?”

Realizing that he’s still standing _right there_ , Raihan’s angry demeanor melts. His features soften.

“Hopscotch, why don’t we have a seat?” He requests gently, guiding him to the living room. “We’ve gotta have a lil’ chinwag about somethin’ important.”

“Something important?”

“Super important. To me and your brother. We think it’s important you know.”

“Like a secret? Is it that you’re actually the _king_ of Galar? S’that your secret?”

Raihan laughs.

“No, it’s not that. Disappointed?”

“Not really.” Hop plops down on the loveseat, while Raihan and Leon seat themselves on the sofa opposite him. “That’d prolly make things difficult for you. How’re you gonna take care of your gym, go to council meetings, protect the vault, and run Galar all at the same time?”

“He could do it.” Leon assures, resting a hand on Raihan’s knee. “Rai’s good at multi-tasking. He’d make a good king. And champion. And chairman. And gym leader. And vault keeper.”

“A shame I’m not interested.” Raihan tosses his headband aside. “Hip-Hop, what do you know about people who love each other?”

“People who love each other?”

“Yes.”

“Not a lot.” Hop shrugs. “My mum and Sonia are the only people who loved me.”

“That is _not_ true.” Leon immediately replies. “I love you very much.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay.” Hop returns his attention to Raihan. “What _about_ people who love each other?”

“When I say that, I mean people who…people who love each other enough to get married if they wanted to. That’s the kind of love I’m talking about.”

“I think you’re confusing him.” Leon says.

“No, he’s _not_.” Hop snaps. “He’s talking about people who are boyfriends and girlfriends. I’m not _stupid_.”

“Not at all.” Raihan assures him. “You’re _way_ smarter than any of the adults I know. Smarter than even I am.”

“No. Not yet. Maybe one day. I’m gonna study hard like Sonia so I _can_ be. Maybe not as smart as her or you, but close.”

“You already _are_ as smart as Sonia.” Raihan responds kindly. “You’re right about what I'm asking. That’s exactly what I’m taking about. What do you know about people who love each other. People who can be girlfriends and boyfriends?”

“What about them do you want to know that I know?”

“For example—“ Raihan pauses. He looks at his hands. “Do you…Do you think two boys can be boyfriends?”

Silence envelops the room.

Leon taps his foot incessantly, tugging nervously at the brim of his hat. Raihan continues to stare at his hands.

And Hop—

“…are you making fun of me?”

Raihan’s head snaps up.

“What?”

“You’re trying to make fun of me!” Hop exclaims, hurt. “I’m not _dumb_! I’m _not_! My Mummy—My _Mum_ taught me about this stuff. She said when people love each other very much, they can get married and make a family. I’m not stupid!”

“No one’s calling you that.” Leon tells him, his voice even. “You’re not. We don’t think that.”

“Then why are you treating me like an idiot?” Hop looks away. “I’m _not_ an idiot. I _know_.”

“Then do you think it’s okay?” Raihan presses, expression grim. “Do you think it’s okay if two boys are boyfriends?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Hop frowns, tugging at a loose thread hanging off his hoodie, unsure what could have prompted this conversation. Why are they talking about this? Are they trying to tease him about being from the countryside? About being a kid? He doesn’t know everything, but he knows a lot!

“If they love each other, why _can’t_ they be boyfriends?” He goes on to ask, kicking at the fluffy rug below his feet. “Do _you_ think they can’t be boyfriends?"

Hop isn’t sure what exactly he’s expecting as a response.

Maybe a proper explanation for this formal chat. Maybe for Leon to make things worse. Maybe for them to reveal it all as an elaborate joke meant to tease him. That’d be annoying, but he could probably shrug it off and label them childish.

He’s certainly not expecting for Raihan to hug him.

Hop’s hands hover in the air uncertainly. He glances at Leon, but all he does is direct an encouraging smile his way.

Slowly, Hop rests his hands atop Raihan’s shoulder blades. He’s not discomforted by the abrupt display of affection. He's always enjoyed hugs. His mother’s were always long and sweet and Sonia’s always make him feel like he’s walking on air.

Raihan’s are nice too, he thinks, even if he doesn’t know why he’s receiving one.

“Thanks.” Raihan mumbles into his shoulder.

“For what?” Hop asks, confused.

“For bein’ you.”

“Oh.” Hop’s face turns pink. Not every day he hears that. “Okay. Um, you’re welcome. I’m, um, I’m me.”

“I’m glad.”

“Okay.” He pats Raihan’s head. “Me too.”

They stay like that for a while, until Raihan pulls back and kneels in front of him.

“Your brother and I are in a relationship.” He says abruptly, not an inkling of anxiety on his face. It’s devoid of any humor. Utterly serious. “We’re boyfriends.”

“That’s such a dumb word.”

“Shut up, Leon.”

“‘kay.”

“You’re…boyfriends?” Hop repeats dumbly. “I thought you were rivals?”

“We are.”

“Best friends?”

“Well, that, too. Kinda silly not be best friends with your boyfriend.”

“You can do that?”

“You can do _anything_ , sweet pea. As long as you’re happy. Fuck anyone who says otherwise.”

“…you two are _boyfriends_?” Hop asks again, because he can’t quite wrap his head around it. It never crossed his mind to consider that a possibility. Raihan and Leon are close, but it’s not as if they went around...

Actually, Hop doesn’t know what people go around doing when they’re courting. He doesn’t know anything at all about that. His mother mentioned wining and dining? Is that what they did when Hop wasn't around?

“So, like, boyfriends who can get married and make a family one day?” He questions, tilting his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Like that kind of boyfriends?”

“Uh…?” Raihan runs a hand over his dreads. “Maybe? I think we already have that second part covered. You plus eight ‘mons is more than enough family for us, don’t you think?”

“I guess…” Hop hums thoughtfully, before another question comes to mind. “Wait, is that why we came here?” He turns to Leon. “Is that why we didn’t go to Wyndon? ‘cause Raihan’s your boyfriend and you wanted to mooch off him ‘cause all you’re good at is battling?”

“Kinda?” Leon shrugs, not bothering to deny it. “I didn’t think Wyndon would be a good place to take you, and I didn’t think I could be there either. Not now, at least. I thought, ‘ _huh, where can we be safe and sound and have a nice guy around to take us in and spoil us?_ ’ Then I remembered, ‘ _wait, I have a cool boyfriend who’s very good at giving me advice, making me feel better, and taking care of others. It’s perfect!_ ’”

“And that’s why we’re here?”

“Yup.”

“That...makes sense. I think.” Hop says, fiddling with his fringe. “Is that the important thing you wanted to tell me?”

“Yes.” Raihan nods. “Are you…okay with it? With your brother and I…?”

“I mean, I don’t know _why_ you’d want to be his boyfriend, but I don’t mind.” Perhaps that fact in itself was symbolic of a greater hope for humanity. If _Leon_ could have someone like _Raihan_ want to be lovey-dovey with him, that boded well for _anyone_ interested in that sorta thing. “I’m fine with it.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” Raihan grins wide enough to show off his fangs. Even Leon's toothy smile is just that much brighter.

They must be _really_ happy about what he's said, even if he doesn't think he's done anything especially extraordinary. Still, Hop feels nice about that. He likes making Raihan happy.

And if Leon could be happy about it, too...that's just as well, he supposes.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Hop pulls his phone out to check the time. “We should probably get going. I have a feeling your _boyfriend's—"_ The word feels strange to say. Would probably take getting used to." _—_ going to wander off at least once.” 

“ _Hey_!” Leon seems ready to argue that. However, after a brief contemplative look, he doesn’t. Instead, he jumps to his feet. “...actually, you’re probably right. Let’s get going.”

“Shouldn’t you change?” Hop frowns. “Raihan said comfortable casual, but I don’t think that means showing up like a slob.”

“What?” Leon follows his line of sight, blanching when he notices he is far from presentable with all those wrinkles and creases on his shirt. He forces out a nervous laugh. “Y-You’re right, kiddo! I should go do that! Don’t wanna show up all a mess! Haha…ha.”

He turns on his heel and stalks off.

Right back into Raihan’s room.

“... _Oh_.” Hop slaps a fist against his palm, a sudden realization striking him. “ _That’s_ why he isn’t using the guest room. You’ve been sharing.”

“Y-Yeah. We have…” Raihan confirms, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

Hop doesn’t get why, but figures it’s not that important.

Boyfriends could share rooms. Boyfriends could do whatever they wanted, as long as it makes them happy.

Raihan said so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> future hop, sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal: wait a minute...they were _kissing_ weren't they


	16. a bit of sass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spikemuth's punky vibes aren't enough to hide the obvious.

_to my little flower,_

_hello, hop._

_i hope you’re well._

_forgive me if i’m not quite as energetic this time around. mummy’s not feeling well today._

_that begs the question of why i’m writing in the first place._

_i’m not sure. i feel like it, i suppose. it gives me something to take my mind off things._

_a bit morbid, no? the reason these exist is because i know I'm dying. still, i think it’s important for you to know._

_mummy’s tired. just a little bit. maybe it’s cruel of her to tell you that now._

_i don’t know._

_where were we? galar i think._

_i wasn’t looking forward to going back, but your father was so excited about visiting. he kept asking questions until i told him to shut his gob and see for himself._

_we started at wyndon and worked our way down._

_your father loved it. loved how it worshiped battle culture. didn’t care much for the blatant commercialism. he was always a traditionalist at heart._ _that’s probably why he enjoyed hammerlocke. all the architecture and history behind it. was so disappointed when he found out nobody was allowed into the vault without the necessary permits or permissions._

_he suggested we sneak in. i suggested he not be an idiot._

_however unfortunately, we made it all the way to postwick eventually. he asked if he could meet my parents. to properly ask for my hand, as per traditional galarian etiquette._

_i told him no. it was a bad idea. we weren’t on good terms at all. i think he severely underestimated what i meant by that. not that it was rare for him. your father was always the type to talk things out, so sure a resolution could be reached if all parties made an effort._

_clearly, he hadn’t met my parents._

_against my better judgement, i agreed when he insisted on it. how could i deny him when he was so earnest about it?_

_i should have. i’m still embarrassed about what went on to this day._

_reluctantly, i led him to my childhood home. it wasn’t much. a shabby cottage with a porch and swing in front, herds of wooloo out back._

_does that ring a bell for you?_

_it’s the very place we live in now. there’s a story there. i’ll explain later._

_i knocked the door, praying to arecus nobody would be home. too bad for me, my mother answered._

_i’ll never forget the way she looked at me. the words she said to me._

_oh, it’s you. what do you want?_

_like i was a stranger. like she hadn’t spent nearly two decades of her life raising me. i knew i hadn’t kept in touch. hadn’t bothered to contact them even once after i left, but shouldn’t they have been at least a little happy to see me? a little relieved to see me still alive?_

_she looked annoyed._

_i asked if we could talk. i brought a guest, mother. just a moment of your time, please. that’s all._

_arceus, hop, it was one of the worst experiences of my life. i didn’t say another word the entire time i was there, but my mother didn’t take issue with that._

_she was too busy being charmed by your father._

_he introduced himself and she ate every single one of his words up. you’d think this would be a good thing. that it would make me happy. my mother was listening to my future husband with great interest, tittering and giggling like a school girl. they were getting along weren’t they? that’s good isn’t it?_

_it made me want to vomit._

_she didn’t spare me a single glance that entire time. not once throughout that entire conversation, as if i wasn’t even there. she warmed up faster to a man she’d only known for half an hour and not her own flesh and blood._

_he even managed to impress my father when returned from the fields, an impossible feat for me. such an established man, my father said. such a delight to meet someone with aim and ambition. perhaps a bit of that can rub off on that one over there._

_that one._

_that’s all i was to him._

_that one._

_by the time your father got around to asking for my hand, they were in full agreement. enthusiastic about it. my mother offered any help she could provide for the wedding. your father politely declined. we weren’t going to have a wedding. i didn’t have a dime and he wasn’t interested in ceremonies like that. a simple document signing would be enough._

_we left by late evening. my mother gave your father a tupperware dish to take along. they invited him to come back whenever he liked. he agreed. they waved him goodbye as we left._

_neither of us said anything until we made it to a good place to camp out._

_i was embarrassed and mortified. i figured he was second guessing his involvement with me. surely, someone who couldn’t garner the respect of her own parents wasn’t worth sticking around._ _i offered to serve him whatever my mother gave him when we got a fire going and our tents set up._

_he declined. released all his pokémon, and promptly ordered them to hyper beam it._

_even little charmander got in on the action, although all he could manage was a slightly stronger than normal ember. overkill to say the least. left a nasty hole in the ground_

_naturally, i was shocked. i asked why he would do that._

_he told me we were never going back there ever again._

_i couldn’t believe it. they seemed to get along. what was the problem?_

_he said, i’m not going to associate myself with people who do not offer my wife the respect she deserves. i don’t care if they gave birth to you. don’t care about anything they have to say. i don’t want them anywhere near us._

_i didn’t know how to react to that._ _clearly, he hadn’t been expecting them to be that bad. part of me wasn’t either._ _seeing them again made me realize they were much worse than i remembered._

_in the end, i told him not to fret over it. i was over them (a lie) and was already living my own life. it didn’t matter anymore._

_i don’t think i ever managed to convince him of that, but seeing as he wasn’t fond of them, he left it at that._

_we spent a lot of time exploring the wild area after that, until champion cup season came around and your father decided he was interested in joining. i’m not sure how he convinced her, but one day he told me he was going to ask around wedgehurst for their famed professor and the next, he was waving an endorsement from her in my face._

_magnolia’s always been a bit of an odd ball. i’m not sure what she was thinking when that lout barged into her lab asking for something like that. his charm was unmatched, i suppose._

_i wasn’t interested in following him up through galar again. i opted for staying in wedgehurst while he had his fun._ _i think he could tell I needed time for myself._

_he agreed, left his charmander behind with me as protection (his words not mine), and ran off as soon as he could. the little guy was so disappointed. he wanted to run the circuit, too._

_your father never properly trained him. coddled and spoiled him to death, but never anything more than that. i would imagine having two charizards to be a great advantage, but i suppose he thought differently. he told me he received him as an egg, a month or two before he met me, after leaving his charizard at a daycare for a short time._

_while he was never cruel, i don’t think his charizard ever treated his charmander as his young. i’m not sure if that’s how charizards treat their offspring or if he simply wasn’t interested, but they never shared a parent-child relationship from what i observed._

_whatever the case, he stayed with me. missed your father dearly. would cry every night for him. i tried my best to get his mind off him, but nothing i did ever worked. i didn’t blame him. being away from the one person who showered you with constant affection must be painful._

_after a week or two of not being able to calm him, i was desperate. the pokémon center insisted nothing was physically wrong with him. i didn’t know what else to do._

_then i remembered something._

_the pokémon lab._

_a pokémon professor would know exactly how to help!_

_that’s where i went. that’s where i met magnolia. that’s how i came to spend the entire time your father was gone with her._

_she’s such a bright woman, hop. brilliant in every way. perhaps a little prickly, but i think that adds to her charm. she knew all there was to know about everything. taught me a lot about how to take care of my little friend’s separation anxiety. informed me about her research, even if i could barely make heads or tails of it._

_took me in as angrily as your father did when she realized i was spending my time camping in the wild area. i told her it wasn’t an issue, but she wouldn’t have it. had me do work around her home and lab as repayment._

_i got to water all her plants, hop!_

_i learned a lot about her, too. she studied and taught at every prestigious university there was, published books the size of wooloos. won tons of awards for her work._

_she was always happiest when she was speaking about her grandchildren. she could talk for hours about how tenacious her brilliant oli was or how she knew your beloved sonia, still in her mummy’s belly at the time, would turn out to be a star all on her own._

_it made me happy, how fond she was of her family. it made me want one for my own._ _one where nobody would have to hear a single harsh word. where everyone would be happy and know they were loved and cherished and respected._

_one where nobody would be ignored. not ever._

_turns out, i was a little ahead of the game._

_shortly before your father returned, i started feeling really sick. i couldn’t hold anything down. was always dizzy._ _a very crummy time to be me._

_magnolia took me to the clinic because she was worried. they did a few tests and gave me very surprising news._

_i had a baby in my tummy!_

_that baby was your brother, of course. little leon._

_i didn’t know how to feel at first. i wasn’t expecting it. if it weren’t for magnolia, i probably would have peed my pants then and there._

_i didn’t know anything about raising babies to be fully-functioning adults. i didn’t have my life together. i didn’t have anything together._

_how could I raise a child?_ _i was a mess._

_i was panicking, but magnolia calmed me down enough to take me to her lab._

_thank the heavens for her._ _my guardian angel in more ways than one._

_she sat me down with a mug of tea and told me everything would be all right. that everything would be fine. that she was there for me and would take care of me. i wouldn’t be alone as long as she was around. she would support whatever decision i made._

_i thought very hard on it, hop._

_and i realized, despite how terrified and unprepared and worried i was about what it meant to have a little gentleman growing inside me, i was also happy._

_over the moon._

_i had a little gentleman with me! a little piece of me and your father, snoozing inside my belly, waiting to wake up and greet the world._

_i can’t deny it. i got excited._

_i prayed he wouldn’t be like your father just as much as i prayed that he would. i certainly didn’t want him to be like me, but as long as i didn’t mess up as badly as my parents did, that would be easy, right?_

_probably not, but i was a somewhat hopeful lass in those days. if there’s anything your father taught me, it was to try and have a little faith and optimism every now and again._

_your father returned the day before he would be battling the champion._

_i was shocked when i went out to do some shopping for magnolia and caught him walking out the train station. i kept up with his matches as much as i could on the telly, and knew for a fact he completely annihilated the competition. he would be facing the reigning champion the very next day. what was he doing back in wedgehurst?_

_now, i can’t confirm the veracity of this story. please take it with a grain of salt._

_apparently, there was some funny business going on behind the scenes._

_back then, the previous chairman was suspected of being involved in illicit business dealings. money laundering, bribing, all sorts of uncouth behavior. the problem was, nobody could ever compile the evidence to prove it. he was nigh untouchable._

_until he wasn’t, but that’s irrelevant to this._

_according to your father, he was urged to throw the match. they told him he’d be paid a generous amount if he did._

_your father is many things, but a cheat? absolutely not._

_he insisted on doing the opposite. they insisted on busting his kneecaps._ _again, i cannot confirm if this is true or not._

_your father, in a moment of irresponsible recklessness, demanded he be paid up front. how he believed he was in any position to be making demands at the same time his kneecaps were being threatened is beyond me. they agreed, wired the money to his account, and left him alone after that._

_he took the first train back the next morning._ _threw the match in his own way, i suppose._

_wasn’t really a challenge anyway, he told me. the git. champ’s a total wimp. no presence, no power, no spice. rather be with my wife._

_while i was flattered, i asked if it was really worth it. he got a substantial amount of money out of the deal, but he’d never really been materialistic. what did he need all that cash for?_

_he said_

_to buy your parents out of their house. we need somewhere to live if we’re going to stay here, right?_

_i just_

_ridiculous._

_utterly ridiculous._

_i cannot believe him. not even to this day. was he serious?_

_of course he was. he always is. he’s always been that way._

_he told me postwick was a great place for settling down and raising a family, if we ever got around to it. plenty of space, fresh air, and close enough to the wild area to train._

_it was perfect._

_you know how i felt about postwick, hop._

_i hated it when i was a child. i didn’t feel like i belonged. i felt like an outcast. unwanted and ignored by everyone._

_i couldn’t say i thought that anymore._

_you know how the people from postwick come into wedgehurst a lot?_

_well, while i was helping magnolia with errands and the like, i ended up bumping into a few of them occasionally. they recognized me. asked how i’d been, what i’d been up to, if i was doing well, if i wanted to stop by for a cup of tea._

_they were so kind. not any bit the monsters i’d made them out to be in my childhood. not that i could see, at least._

_they were far different from the people in my memories._

_what changed?_

_i think i did._

_when i was younger, i was so caught up in what my parents said about me, i assumed everyone else felt the same. i was cold and rude to them, didn’t stop to actually give my neighbors the time of day, no matter how friendly they were. i assumed they were just like the rest. that they hated me like my own parents did._

_i think i was the one who refused to give them a chance. i’d had it wrong all along._

_i was wrong. so very wrong._

_i thought, isn’t it about time i forgot about those bad memories and replaced them with good ones? i wanted to be brave for once. i wanted to take a chance._

_i was tired of running away._

_so i didn’t._

_i told him sure. let’s go for it._

_let’s get that house from them._

_maybe i should have known better. your father suddenly wanting to settle down was odd. a strange whim on his part._

_maybe i was blinded by my own desires._

_i don't know._

_but that’s the story of how your father bought my childhood home from my parents, threw out whatever they left behind, and used what was left of his bribe to buy us the furniture you and i use to this day._

_of course, i told him about leon during that entire process. i don’t know why i expected him to be less enthused than he was._

_he was so happy about it, hop._

_he told me he’d never thought about having a family of his own, but now that he did, he couldn’t imagine not wanting one. our child would be the happiest, brightest, and strongest child on earth, with a cool father like him and an elegant, refined and perfect mother like me._

_i promise you those were his words not mine._

_we settled down, took in our flock of wooloo, and started living off the land. nothing fancy and exorbitant, but that’d never been our style. we had our home and each other and our sweet litleo on the way._

_and your father’s pokémon of course._

_i think they cared in their own ways. his kingdra used to chill rags for me whenever i got a little overheated. his dragonite would help me up and down the stairs. his charizard would herd the wooloo so i didn’t need to do it whenever your father went out._

_that little charmander, though._

_i think he was the most excited out of all of us. he used to rest his head against my tummy and close his eyes. could do it for hours. just lay there and wait for any movement._

_strangely enough, your brother only ever kicked when he was around._

_i think they both knew, somehow, someway, that they were waiting to meet each other._

_let’s leave it that, shall we?_

_mummy’s eyes are barely staying open. she’s really tired._

_with hugs kisses and a dozen little belly kicks_

_mummy_

* * *

“You’ve been looking out for him since he was in my mum’s belly, haven’t you?”

A stream of smoke escapes Arthur’s nostrils.

Hop’s assertion is met with equal amounts of pride and exasperation. It’s rather odd. From what he’s read, Charizard are notoriously finicky and difficult to train. For Arthur to be patient enough to deal with a trainer who causes more trouble than he should is nothing short of a miracle. Granted, they’ve been together since he was a Charmander, but still.

It’s a relationship only the two of them fully understand, he gathers.

“You’ve come a long way.” Hop pats his snout. “Mum said they thought you were a runt. They’re eating their opinions now. You’re the strongest ‘zard in all Galar.”

An incredulous look is cast his way.

“Not just Galar? The world?” Hop hums, tapping his chin in thought. “We’ll have to see about that.”

Arthur flicks him with one of his wings.

They’re both perched on one of the many turrets decorating the stadium. A lot higher than is usually allowed of him, but Arthur had offered and Hop couldn’t deny he was in the mood for some mischief.

He swings his legs back and forth, gazing out at the city below them. There’s something special about watching the tiny durant people from the vantage point of clouds. Where are they going, what are they doing? Are they worried? Are they happy? Do they have a busy schedule or are they wasting time shopping?

He doesn’t know.

The world’s full of people he doesn’t know.

“Wonder what he did?” Hop wonders for the millionth time. Yet again, his mother’s letter mentioned a man who appeared to be entirely devoted to her. Enough to buy her childhood home off her parents. Hop’s not familiar with the Galarian courting customs his mum’s alluded to, but that act in particular comes across as too farfetched to be required of a potential spouse.

Sounded like kindness. Like something someone would do for a loved one.

Something someone would do for their wife, who they love very much.

“Did you like him? My dad, I mean.” He asks Arthur. “Was he kind? Was he…was he nice?”

Arthur observes him for a moment, gaze fixed and pointed.

Then, he nods.

“Thought so.” Hop's sigh disappears into the winds whipping around them.

His mother’s motivations remain a mystery.

At least he knows for sure she was good friends with Professor Magnolia, and the reasoning behind it.

How must she have taken her passing? The professor had never been one for openly displaying her emotions, but it had to hurt, losing a good friend like that. Remaining at her side as her health deteriorated, speaking false reassurances when the inevitable was clear as day.

Was she hurting like Hop? He should have asked. Should have offered her comfort.

His mother wanted Leon to be different from her. Perhaps Hop had been the one to inherit from her. He was so blinded by his own misery, he hadn’t stopped to question if he was the only one. Surely, the professor had her own grief to deal with. Even the neighbors. They all stopped by to offer their condolences, tears in their eyes as they tried their best to raise his spirits.

Hop hadn’t paid them any mind. Hadn’t considered that his mother’s world stretched far beyond the space she shared with him.

“The world’s so big.” He comments idly, listlessly coming to rest his hand below Arthur’s chin when he leans in for a nuzzle. “Isn’t that scary?”

Arthur doesn’t respond. Hop doesn’t expect him to. It’s not really a question either of them can answer.

“Havin’ fun up there?”

Hop winces.

There goes the silly notion of remaining unnoticed. Perhaps he shouldn’t choose such an obvious place to contemplate matters of existential importance when the spot’s only a glass door away from discovery.

“Yes…?” Hop does his best to conceal himself behind Arthur, but the ‘mon's of no help when even _he_ cowers under the mighty guardian of Hammerlocke’s unimpressed aura.

“Pretty sure I told you not to hike yourself up there.”

“You did…”

“And where are you?”

“Up here…”

“And where should you be?”

“Down there…” Hop pouts, glumly climbing onto Arthur’s back. The Charizard jets forward onto solid ground, dropping him off in front of Raihan before flying in another direction, probably to avoid a proper scolding, the _traitor_.

“Welcome back.” Raihan says, playfully bopping him on the head. “I’m sure you don’t need a lecture from me, but just in case, how about you summarize the main points?”

“ _I shouldn’t go any higher up the stadium, especially not without supervision, because it’s dangerous and deadly and you don’t like the thought of me going splat_.”

“I also don’t like you using that term, but good enough.” He earns a hair ruffle for it. “What were you doing up there anyway?”

“Looking at the view.” It’s not a lie. After receiving the letter from the Corvisquire, Arthur had happened to pass by during his usual morning warm up laps. He noticed him, flew over, scaring away the Corvisquire in the process (something Hop would need to make up to him the next time he came around). To apologize, the Charizard had flow him up onto the turret, where they spent the rest of the morning together.

“If it’s a view you’re looking for, I think your brother would be more than happy to take you flying. He’s been pretty restless.”

“Why?”

“Funny you should ask. _“_ Raihan sighs, genuine remorse clouding his gaze _. “_ I’m not going to be able to take you to Spikemuth today.”

“ _Wha_ —But you _promised_!” Hop exclaims. This can’t be! Not after waiting an entire week for Marnie’s brother to agree, and then _another_ to actually visit! “You said you’d take me! You said ‘ _sure hopscotch absolutely! the great raihan is a kind and noble gentleman who keeps his word and always listens to his favorite person’s requests_!’”

Raihan raises an eyebrow.

“I remember that first part. Not so much the second, although I _do_ agree about my great, gentlemanly qualities and to the fact that you are one of my favorite people.”

“Exactly! How can you do this _now_? Th-That’s very…very…very _ungentlemanly_ of you!”

“ _Whoa_. Let’s cool it with those accusations there, kiddo.” Raihan holds his hands up placatingly. “Hold up a sec. Let me finish. _I_ won’t be able to take you, but your brother has agreed to go in my place. Not like he’s doing anything else.”

“Leon will?” Hop’s blood pressure lowers to a more manageable level. Okay. That’s fine. He’s going either way, which is what he wants. “…all right.”

“Not sure if that’s what I’d call it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Raihan waves off his curiosity. “I’ve got to handle a few things at the chambers. Bureaucratic nonsense. You know how it is.”

“Annoying?”

“Hella. I’ll be gone until late. Can I trust you to get along with him?”

“Not like I’m going to therapy for that very reason.”

“Don’t be a smartass.” Raihan chuckles regardless. “It’s just a suggestion. I want you both back here in one piece.”

“I got it.”

“Good. Now come ‘ere. I’ve got some things I’d like for you to take a long.”

‘ _Things’_ turns out to be a tote bag full of Tupperware containers covered in tin foil and a thermos.

“Don’t swing the bag around. Make sure it gets to Spikemuth safe and sound.” Raihan orders, leaving no room for argument. “That should be enough for four people. Any leftovers, leave them over there. It’s not an issue.”

“Okay.” Hop nods, settling the bag onto his shoulder. If left in the champion’s hands, everything would be reduced to mush within seconds. “Anything else?”

“Keep an open mind. Spikemuth’s… _different_ from Hammerlocke and Wyndon. Don’t let appearances fool you, okay?”

“All right.”

“As for _you_.” Raihan directs a pointed frown at Leon. “ _Relax_ , okay? He’s not going to eat you alive.”

“I know that.” Leon snaps. “I’m not scared of him.”

“We both know that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Raihan, I _really_ don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“You’re going to have to when you get there.”

“When I get there. Not _now_.” Leon turns on his heel and storms off, whistling for Arthur.

“What’s wrong?” Hop asks, confused by the interaction. “Does he…not want to go?”

“Let’s say he’s got some history with Marnie’s brother. Definitely wouldn’t be going if it weren’t for you.”

It’s hardly flattering to know that the only reason Leon’s taking him is because it’s unavoidable. However, that’s not what’s grabbed his attention about the matter.

“I thought you were all friends?”

“We are. It’s just—“ Raihan waves his hand around, trying to come up with the proper words to explain himself. “It’s always been complicated between them. They tend not to see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“Why?”

Raihan smiles tightly.

“Get going, kiddo. Have fun and don’t sweat the rest, ‘kay?”

* * *

To assume Hop wouldn’t be sweating the rest is a grave mistake on Raihan’s part.

How can he _not_ when Marnie is involved? Whatever Leon’s issues with her brother, he sincerely hopes it wouldn’t bode badly for their continued friendship. Marnie may have been civil enough with _his_ brother, but Hop’s not all too sure how _her_ brother would take to the sibling of a man he, _apparently_ , doesn't see in an entirely friendly light. He hopes there’s not some weird blood feud involved, like in the telly dramas. That would be super bad and annoying.

“We’re nearly there.” Leon suddenly says as Arthur begins to descend. “Brace for impact.”

“Have you ever crashed?” Hop blurts out. It’s likely the nerves. “Like, into the ground? Or fallen off?”

“I’ve never fallen off, but we’ve had two nasty crashes before.” Leon admits. “Both times were during rough weather. Arthur was still getting used to having his wings and I wasn’t very experienced with handling him. Broke a bone or two, but I survived, as you can see.”

“It didn’t scare you away from flying?”

“No way.” Leon responds without an ounce of hesitation. “I love the sky. Messing up only made me want to get better at navigating it. That’s why I’m really great at it now.”

“You sure are modest.”

Leon laughs.

“It’s _true_. I’m way better than Raihan, at any rate.”

Hop…can’t argue with that. For all the other areas he excelled in, Raihan certainly isn’t what one could call graceful when in flight. It suited Flo’s rambunctious personality perfectly, the Flygon more than happy to indulge his trainer and cause a ruckus in the skies when given the opportunity.

For passengers, it was a less than smooth experience.

“I wish I could fly whenever I wanted.” Hop sighs. How nice would that be? To take off at any time of day, beholden to nobody’s rules.

“When you’re older, you can—well, maybe not _whenever_ you want—but you’ll be able to do a lot more things by yourself, on your own terms. Might even have a ‘mon of your own to take you places.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think I’d be good at taking care of one.”

“Our ‘mons like you just fine.”

“That’s not the same.” Hop runs a hand over a faded scar on Arthur’s neck. “I wouldn’t want to hurt them.”

“I don’t think you would. I think you’d treat them as well as you treat Arthur, or Mordred, or Galahad or everyone else. Are you afraid you won’t?”

“Even nice people can turn mean, can’t they?” Hop frowns. “What if I turn really mean? What if I stop caring about my Pokémon? I wouldn’t want them to be sad because I’m no good.”

“That wouldn’t happen.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you _are_ good.” Leon replies with confidence. “You’re already a natural with them. Don’t think there’s anyone I’d trust with my gang more than you.”

“But they’re _yours_.”

“And when you have _yours_ , nobody will take better care of them than _you_. You’re _good_ , Hop. Don’t doubt it.”

An intrinsic part of Hop _wants_ to doubt it, if only because it’s the champion telling him and, frankly, when has the champion’s word _ever_ been credible?

He’s trying not to listen to that vile part of himself though, always needling at him, crawling up his spine and impaling him with toxic little thoughts. Venomous stabs encouraging him to _always_ think the worst, to not believe a single sugary word, especially not from the _champion_.

He’s trying. Their therapist says it’ll take time. That it isn’t an overnight process. That trust is built not gifted. That years of viewing his brother as an outsider, a _stranger_ , won’t be undone with the wave of a wand, but with open and honest communication. A willingness to take each other’s hands and not expect the other to let go.

He wants to believe he’s good.

He wants to believe _Leon_ when he says he’s good.

Arthur lands amidst tall, unkempt grass, scaring off a group of Bergmite and provoking a single Clobbopus into running at them. It punches fruitlessly at the ‘mon’s legs. Unamused, Arthur flaps his wings, the gust enough to send the little guy flying a few meters back until he disappears into the brush. It shouldn’t have been enough to injure him, but Hop feels a little bad about it anyway.

“Back into your ball, Artie.” Leon says, his Charizard disappearing in a flash of white. At Hop’s questioning look, he explains. “The city’s pretty cramped. Don’t think he’ll have a fun time trying to keep his wingspan in check.”

“Where _is_ the city?” Hop inquires, taking in their surroundings.

Besides the huge metal box dome thingy a few paces in front of them, there’s only wilderness, a stockpile of rusted shipping containers, and a gate that’s a breeze away from falling apart.The faint smell of saltwater wafts through the air. Is the sea nearby? Is that where the containers are from?

Where’s Spikemuth?

“In there.” Leon points to the worn shutters closing off the large structure. “That’s it.”

“There’s a city in there?”

“Sure is.”

“Whoa.” Definitely not what he was expecting. He can see why Marnie liked to call it unique, even if all he could think about now was how they received any sunlight. “How do we get in?”

“The front's closed off, so I gather from the side.” Leon takes the lead, leaping over the fences gating off the area. He attempts to help Hop.

It's unnecessary. He jumps onto the railings, walking upon them with balance rivaling that of a Purrloin.

“Careful.” Leon warns, arms bracketing the space around him. “I didn’t bring a first-aid kit with me.”

“You won’t need one.”

The path diverts into notably treaded upon, beaten ground, footsteps embedded into the dirt, melting into one another.

There’s an opening along the side of the big metal box, the faint reflection of magenta lights coloring the walls. Stationed there, as if she were a fearless sentry ready to defend her birthplace, is none other than—

“Marnie!” Hop takes a running start off the railings, leaping forward the remaining distance between them.

“Heya.” She waves, Koko mimicking the motion, standing at her feet rather than in her arms. “You made it.”

“Yeah!” Hop grins. “I could barely sleep last night thinkin’ about it.”

“Not like we got a legendary or anything’ here. S’just a city.”

“Maybe not, but it’s _your_ city. That’s what makes it special.”

“Can’t say I mind that way of thinkin’.” She looks over his shoulder at his accompanying adult. “Mr. Champion.”

“Miss Marnie.” Leon greets, tipping his cap at her. “Pleasure to see you.”

“I thought Raihan was coming?” She sounds disappointed. It…disappoints Hop. He doesn’t know why.

“He had work related stuff to do.” Leon says. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

“…Hmph. Guess not.” She turns her back on him, tugging at Hop’s sleeve. “C’mon. Let’s get going. We’re burnin’ daylight.”

Hop glances at Leon, who’s face is paved over with an emotion he presumes to be passivity.

Or resignation.

He wishes he could tell.

Hop doesn’t have a distinct idea on what he’s expecting Spikemuth to look like.

Surprisingly, there is very little information on the city exempting a few historical references, mentions of vague battles and civil uprisings. Not much in terms of current news. From what Marnie’s alluded to, it's been mostly forgotten. Doesn’t help that it’s out of the way and hidden under a dark cube.

Hop can’t help but think there has to be a reason for that. The shutters and dome are _purposeful_. They _have_ to be.

When Marnie guides them in, Hop’s first thought is to how worn down everything looks. Besides the Pokémon Center, which isn’t anywhere near pristine as the ones in Hammerlocke or Wedgehurst, the rest of the buildings have fallen into disrepair. They are boarded up, windows cracked or shattered, abandoned and thick with grime. What he assumes were once fully functioning neon lights flicker unreliably, faint trails of sparks popping for every other interval of power that reaches them.

Marnie pulls him past those buildings.

“We’re goin’ to our place.” She says quickly. The tips of her ears are red. “Almost there.”

The farther they walk, the more run down everything looks.

Crates and boxes litter the streets, torn and weathered posters near illegible are stuck onto shuttered storefronts. They advertise leases and sales. A few, Chairman Rose’s face. Unfortunately, the letters are too washed out for him to make out, and Marnie’s pace doesn’t allow for a lot of meandering.

They abruptly turn into an alleyway, interconnected with more pathways that lead into even _more_ alleyways. While the general aesthetic remains the same, there is far more activity here. The buildings are aglow with light inside and out. Residents squeeze past each other, trying to get wherever they’re going within the cramped space, their style reminiscent of Marnie’s. Or maybe it’s the other way around?

“This is where the stores are.” Marnie says without looking back at him. “The front’s more of a…well, _front_. This is where we _actually_ go ‘bout our day.”

It’s definitely more lively.

The snazzy neon lights are actually functioning here, the shops lining the streets bustling with activity. Higher up are what appear to be apartments. Lines of laundry are strung between them, connecting the buildings in an intricate web of clothing. Tenants are chatting from across windows, the distance between them playing little to no factor in their jokes and story-telling.

Among all this, Marnie weaves in and out of the crowd with practiced ease, as if she’s done it a million times before. She greets everyone and everyone greets her. It’s an odd sight to say the least. In school, Marnie tends to keep to herself, but here, she’s in her natural habitat.

It’s nice. Hop’s glad she has a place where she can be comfortably at ease.

Eventually, Marnie takes a sharp turn into a dead end. One final building rests on the other side, tucked between two others. A dim light peeks through the gaps of the curtained windows.

“Almost there.” She sidles towards the side of the building, where a well used fire escape hangs. “Up here.”

“Can’t we use the door?”

“It’s jammed. Hasn’t worked in years.” She starts climbing. “Watch yer step. This thing’s rickety.”

Hop eyes the ladder, unnerved by all the screeching and squeaking it’s doing. He’s not really worried for himself. He’s fallen from higher. It’s the thought of the flimsy thing giving in and Marnie hurting herself that bothers him.

“You go first.” Leon suggests. “I’ll be right below.”

Hop agrees and hefts himself upward, climbing up to the platform Marnie’s currently kneeling on. When he arrives, she’s shoving a window open.

“In here.” Without preamble, she climbs through, summersaulting onto the carpeted floor inside. Hop does the same, with much less grace to show for it.

Leon has a far more difficult time, barely fitting through the window.

“ _Ow_.” He groans when he falls to the floor after squirming his way in. “I don’t remember this being an issue.”

“Maybe it’s your big ego.” Marnie deadpans, heading out into the hall.

“O-Or it could just be your frame.” Hop quickly adds, holding out a hand. Leon takes it with a sheepish smile. “You’re not exactly scrawny.”

“You’re probably right.” He dusts off his clothes. “Forgot how long it’s been since I came over.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“A few times.” Leon grimaces. “I’m not welcome very often.”

Hop would like nothing more to inquire further into what he means by such a vague statement. Marnie calling for them prevents that.

“ _Honestly_.” She’s huffing when they make it over to where she’s looking into a pitch black room. “I told you we were having guests. How are you not ready yet?”

“I am.” Someone replies from amidst the darkness. The voice is low and gravelly.

Hop takes a step back, unnerved.

Noticing this, Leon clicks his tongue. He carefully brushes past Marnie, switching the light on.

A cry not unlike that of a dying creature of the night rebounds against the walls.

“Would you _get up_?” Leon demands, staring down at the figure lying on the floor with thinly-veiled irritation. Hop can’t make out _what_ they are. All he sees is fluffy white and black _something_. “You’re being rude as fuck.”

Marnie hides a gasp behind her hand.

“He _cusses_?” She whispers to him, shocked. “But he’s the _champion_.”

“That…really doesn’t mean anything.”

“The fuck.” The mountain of white and black whatever replies. “The hell are you doin’ here?”

“Think your sister summed it up pretty well, _dumbass_.”

“Shut the fuck up, _prick_.” Low and behold, a human being emerges from the mess, the white and black Hop observed earlier actually a mane of hair, big and poofy and rivaling even _Leon’s_ in volume. They turn their gaze from Leon to Marnie, then to Hop, lingers on him, then goes back to Leon. “…did you two have a _kid_?”

Leon rolls his eyes.

“He’s my _brother_. He’s here to play with Marnie.”

“Oh.”

“I should introduce ya.” Marnie grabs his hand and pulls him further into the room. It’s got that same punky aesthetic Marnie loves so much, all dark, monochromatic shades. Posters for what he presumes to be musical groups are tacked onto the wall, records stacked neatly upon wooden shelves joining them. Sound equipment takes up the majority of the space, a few instruments and a mess of pages with words either crossed out or torn apart scattered on the floor. A small futon is stuffed into one corner, a single duvet haphazardly coiled upon it.It’s messy, to say the least.

“Piers, this is Hop. Hop, this is my brother Piers. He’s Spikemuth’s gym leader.” Marnie pouts. “He was _supposed_ to greet us properly.”

“Don’t make that face, sis.” Piers sighs, lulling his head towards Hop. “Hey kid. Excuse my _horrible_ manners. Find it in your heart to forgive this sad bag of bones.”

“Um, okay…?” Hop replies hesitantly. If he’s being honest, he was expecting Marnie’s brother to be a bit more like her. The way she talked about him made him seem…softer? Not as…intimidating isn’t quite the word but…something along those lines. “Nice to meet you.”

“Is it really?”

“Stop being a dick.” Leon growls as Piers yawns. “He was looking forward to this. At least _act_ like you give a fuck.”

“He’s not here for me, is he?”

“That’s not the point!” Leon and Marnie yell at the same time, startling each other.

“Fine, fine. I get it, I get it.” Piers heaves himself onto his feet with a pained groan. “Sorry for the discourtesy, kid. Glad you could make it. Marnie’s been talkin’ my ear off about you.”

“ _Piers_!” She squeaks, cheeks flushing red. “I have _not_!”

“Ya haven't? My mistake.” He blinks away the apparent sleepiness from his eyes. “I’ll, uh, go make tea. I guess.”

It’s a very uncomfortable tea time.

The kitchen is small, the table only meant for two. Marnie graciously accepts Raihan's polite offerings and stores them in the fridge before bringing two stools into the room, one too tall, the other too short. It places them all at uneven heights. Hop towers over the table, while Leon’s chest barely brushes the edge.

“This tea is very good.” Hop comments in an attempt to break the awkward silence. Piers is staring at the wall, while Leon is pointedly stirring his drink. Neither have spoken a word nor looked at each other since they sat down.

“It is, isn’t it?” Marnie nods, daintily sipping at her cup. “My brother makes the best tea. He doesn’t look it, but he does.”

“It’s all about how ya steep the leaves.” Piers points towards the small corner on the counter dedicated to it. “Ya gotta make sure they don’t go bad on ya. Otherwise, it’ll taste like shit and you’ll have to throw the whole pot away, because it’s just a bunch of shit. Worthless if it ain’t pristine.”

“Maybe if you cleaned it up a bit, it would work out better.” Leon replies, glaring at his teacup. “Nobody’s saying you have to toss everything out. You can work with what you have and add to it. Make it better. If it’s too bitter, add some sugar.”

“That’s fuckin’ rich.” Piers slams him cup onto the table. “Maybe we don’t _want_ to start over. Maybe we don’t _want_ to add new fuckin’ leaves to our fuckin’ brew. That’s how everything gets _spoiled_. Too many hands in the kitchen and eventually, _your_ _tea_ ain’t _your_ _tea_. It’s not _anybody’s_ tea. It’s _their_ tea.”

“You’re the one who’s always complaining about how you need to improve it!” Leon snarls. “Why is it an issue when someone starts trying to help you out? What is wrong with bringing you some new blends? Why the hell is that an issue if you’ve admitted that you don’t know how to make tea?”

“Because it’s not your tea to improve! It’s _mine_ , _dammit_!”

“That is so _selfish._ You think your tea is _yours_? That you’re the only one who’s _relying_ on it? Open your _eyes_ , Piers, the leaves are _rotting_. Your fields don’t get sunlight. No maintenance except for what your mates can pitch in with. What _kind of tea is that_?”

“ _It’s my fucking tea_!”

“ _Then make an effort to make it better if you think it’s so shitty!_ ”

“U-Um…” Hop glances between the two men nervously, Marnie doing the same. He has the distinct feeling this argument isn’t about tea at all. “Is everything all right…?”

Remembering himself, Leon's gaze snaps over to him, a painfully forced smile settling itself upon his face.

“Yes, Hop, everything is all right.” He says tightly. “We’re just having a little chinwag about tea. Piers and I have differing opinions on it. You know how it is.”

“He should know that your opinion’s _shit_.” Piers scoffs. A pointed look from Marnie has his demeanor mellowing. “…What’s the plan? I’m guessin’ we’re not gonna sit here drinkin’ tea all day.”

“A proper tour.” Marnie replies enthusiastically, jumping from her seat. “We’re gonna show Hop _everything_.”

“What, while big brother plays protector?” Piers gives Leon an incredulous look. “Too dangerous for your kid? Afraid he’ll get tossed into the bay? S’that why you’re here? Give me a fuckin' break.”

“Would you _stop_?”

“No.”

Leon pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s go start this tour already.” He mutters, rising up. “Lead the way, Miss Marnie.”

* * *

Everything begins at the shops.

Hop was hoping it would. He saw a few things on the way to Marnie’s home that really caught his attention, mainly—

“So cute…” Hop coos, picking up a Murkrow plushie. The tufts of feathers resembling a hat, those talons and _eyes_ — “Why can’t we have Murkrow in Galar? It’s not _fair_.”

“Because that would disrupt a large part of our ecosystem?” Leon suggests with an amused smile. “Just a guess, though. That’s probably what Sonia would say.”

“But they’re so cute?”

“Cuter than, let’s say…a Corvisquire? Galar’s equivalent?”

“ _No_.” Hop responds immediately. A foolish question indeed, but Leon’s full of those. “No way. No contest. Corvisquire all the way.”

“I prefer Murkrow.” Marnie chimes in, peering over his shoulder. “That’s just me, though.”

“We’ll agree to disagree.” Hop moves to put it back, but Leon takes it instead.

“I’ll buy it for you.” He insists. “Want anything, Miss Marnie?”

“Wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing at all. Pick something out.”

“If you’re offerin’…” She taps her chin, keenly observing the stand. When they land upon a Houndour, it’s as good as sold. “This one, please.”

“You got it.” Leon pauses, looking to Piers. “Do you want—“

“No.” Piers turns to the shopkeeper. “Charge him extra, Josh. He’s got the coin.”

“Was gonna do it anyway.” This Josh fellow snickers, ringing the purchase up. “Ain’t everyday the champ’ drops by to grace us with his charity. Surprised nobody’s run you out yet.”

“I’m thankful for everyone’s consideration.” Leon replies dryly.

“You best be.” Josh turns his attention towards Hop, who’s handing Marnie her Houndour. “Hey kid, I make those by scratch, y’know. One-hundred percent Spikemuth spirit.”

“They are?” Hop takes a better look at his. The stitching is neat and hardly visible, smaller details like feather tufts are not immediately apparent, better appreciated upon closer inspection. “They’re very well-made. You’re really talented.”

“You’ve got an eye for quality goods. Say, can I interest you in—“

“Stop peddlin’ to the runts.” Piers guides them away. “They don’t got the time.”

“You’re robbin’ me of a sale!”

“I’ll come back and buy somethin’ off ya later.”

They stop by a few more shop stands. Nothing catches his eye like the Murkrow did, but there is something he feels he should ask about.

“What’s this design mean?” Hop inquires, holding up a magenta scarf. It’s the same one on Marnie’s phone, and the tags all over the city.

“That’s Spikemuth’s symbol.” Marnie informs him. “It’s like Hammerlocke’s dragon.”

“Oh.” Hop considers the fabric. “…I’m gonna get this.”

“You are?” She tilts her head in confusion. “Why?”

“For when you become champion. I wanna have something to support you with.”

“…you really think I can manage it?”

“Of course you can.” Hop assures her. “You’re tough.”

“I’ve gotta be if I wanna make it to the top.” Marnie bumps their shoulders together. “Ta, mate.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I keep him?” Piers comments from behind the pair, squinting against the brilliant optimism radiating off of them.

Leon laughs brightly.

“Absolutely _not_.”

The rest of the quartet’s wandering takes them further away from the shopping district and towards the rougher parts of the city, where buildings are sectioned off and Pokémon skitter within the shadows. Leon closes ranks on Hop and Marnie. Besides rolling his eyes, Piers does not comment on his behavior.

“Think I’ve told you before, but we don’t get a lot of foot traffic.” Marnie says when Hop inquires about the state of, well, _everything_. “No business, no money. No money, no way to support yerself. Some of us moved and some of us stuck around, ‘cause where can you go when you can’t afford to live anywhere else? Ya hold down the fort, tough it out, and hope for the best.” She kicks a stray pebble out of her way. Koko chases it down, brings it back, and the process repeats itself. “That’s what our pa used to say. He left, though. Guess he didn’t believe it himself.”

“Do you?” Hop asks.

“Sometimes. Sometimes I don’t. I don’t want to stop believing, but it’s hard when I see how rough it is for everyone. That’s why I want to be the champ. If I make it to Wyndon, maybe I can help everyone out. Maybe nobody will have to go hungry anymore.”

“Even if you don’t like Wyndon?” Hop stares at the ground. “You’ll do it anyway?”

“I would.” She answers with no amount of hesitation. “I don’t mind stayin’ there if everyone here can live a little better. S’long as I can battle, everythin’ should be fine.”

“As long as you can battle, huh..?”

Perhaps battling isn't the shallow sport Hop's always believed it to be. For Marnie, it was a way for her to help Spikemuth. To lend a hand to the people she spoke to with an ease their classmates could only dream of experiencing. It was equally as sacrificial as it was her following her dreams, because if there’s one thing Hop knows for a fact, it’s that battling runs through her veins as much as it does in Leon’s. It’s what lights the flame in her eyes whenever she talks about the different strategies she’s been working on. It’s what catches her eye whenever they’re walking home from school and happen to see two trainers calling out commands on the field all the way on the other side of the park.

It’s what’s driving her to make it to Wyndon to take down his brother, the unbeatable Champion.

“Can I watch you?” Hop blurts out. “I mean—“

He doesn’t know what he means, or the sense that he means it in, but part of him feels like it’s a mistake to have said it at all, because suddenly Marnie’s eyes are lighting up, her mouth moving before Hop can do anything to save himself from the inevitable request escaping her lips.

“Let’s have a battle!” She suggests, none the wiser to Hop’s utter dread. “The stadium’s close by! It’ll be fun!”

How can Hop say no to her? He can’t, not when she looks so _hopeful_ (will these hopeful looks ever leave him in peace).

He can, however, attempt to weasel his way out of it.

“I don’t have any Pokémon, though.”

“Borrow the champion’s!”

“W-What?” Hop squeaks, horrified by the mere suggestion. “You want me to bring out his _Charizard_ against _Koko_?”

“Right, right. You’ve got a point. Wouldn’t be an even playin’ field. He’d be down before her first Aura Wheel.” She hums, rubbing her chin. “…I got it. Hey bro?”

“You’re not gonna use _me_ as your ‘mon, are you?”

“What? _No_!” She sticks her tongue out at him. “Let me borrow Obstagoon! Hop’ll borrow one of the champ’s lot. That way it’s fair.”

“Have ya even asked if you can use the field?”

“Do I need to?”

“ _Never_.” Piers pats her head. “Let’s go have this battle, then.”

Well that certainly did nothing to help Hop’s case. He was sort of banking on Piers refusing to sully his stadium with the presence of an enemy clan.

He turns to the champion as a last resort, hoping he would feel compassionate enough to call the whole thing off.

He’s wrong.

One look at his brother’s toothy grin says it all.

Hop’s going to battle today.

* * *

Spikemuth’s stadium is very pretty. Punky and stylish as Marnie and Piers. There’s even a stage for performing.

It does nothing to help Hop feel better.

He and Leon are standing together on one end of the field, Marnie and Piers on the opposite side. Much to Hop’s horror, their arrival had caught the attention of Spikemuth denizens who were more than willing to drop everything and start chanting for the home team, holding up banners and signs while hurling less than nice names the champion’s way.

Leon doesn’t pay them any mind. He’s too busy rattling off a bunch of nonsense Hop hasn’t bothered paying attention to because he’s too busy feeling like he’s going to pass out.

“—kay? Get that?”

“No. Can you repeat yourself?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

Rather than become frustrated, Leon only chuckles, unclipping the trio of Pokéballs from his waist.

“There's no need to be scared. Everything will be all right. You know my team well. They’ll listen. That’s all there is to it. Tell them to do whatever they need to do to win.”

“B-But I don’t know how to win. I’ve never battled before. I don’t know the first thing about it!”

“That’s fine. Battling’s not just about what’s up here.” Leon taps his head. “It’s also about what’s _here_.” He points to his torso.

“Your…your stomach…?”

“Your _gut_.” He corrects. “It’s about doing what feels right in the moment. That’s where strategy comes in.”

“But what if I strategize wrong?”

“Ninety-nine percent of the time, you’re _going_ _to_. That’s the nature of battle. Everything’s a variable. Strategizing is adapting to those variables moment by moment.” Leon motions for him to pick a capsule. “It’s a one on one. Pick whoever you think will work best with you.”

The choice is made for him.

One of them bursts open without warning, an excited roar echoing far beyond the field. The light scatters, taking the form of a familiar friend.

“Mordred?”

She arches back and screeches in response, tail whipping back and forth, her breathing heavy as she eyes the Obstagoon across the way. She flexes her claws, an aura of what cannot be described as anything except bloodlust radiating off of her.

Leon grins.

“Lucky you. Got a volunteer right off the bat.” He runs hand along her back. She leans into his touch, barely containing the energy seeping out of her. “I’m guessing you heard the gist of it. You’ve gotta be in sync with Hop, girl. Think you can manage?”

Mordred nods fervently, hopping from foot to foot, eager to get into the heat of things. One look at her begets the very reason Leon has remained Champion for as long as he has, Hop thinks. With battle-eager Mordred leading the charge, how could he _ever_ lose?

“Good.” Leon nuzzles her face, easily avoiding her sharp tusks. “Hop, you know what moves she’s capable of, right?”

“I-I think.” He does, but what does that matter if he gets nervous and forgets them mid-battle? How do people do this for a living? He wouldn’t make it out of the _locker room_!

“Hey.” Leon crouches down so their heights are level, his voice soft. “You’ll be _fine_. This is just you and Miss Marnie having fun, okay? Doesn’t matter if you win or lose. Do your best and don’t worry about the outcome.”

“But I don’t know what I’m _doing_.” Hop replies miserably. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s your first battle, kiddo. Like I said, it’s just a bit of fun. No consequences, no nothing. Just fun.”

“O-Okay.” Hop breathes in and out. “Okay. Just fun. Just fun.”

“Just fun.” Leon rises, facing the opponent’s side. “You two ready?”

“ _Yeah!_ ” Marnie responds, telling Obstagoon to take his position.

“All right!” Leon starts walking away.

In a panic, Hop reaches out, taking hold of his sleeve.

“Don’t leave!” The words tumble out of him before he can think better of them. “I-I mean…c-can you stay nearby? Just in case? I don’t— _please…_?”

“If that’s what you want, sure.” Leon looks pleased. “I’ll be on the sidelines, okay? I'm not going anywhere.”

“Thank you.” Embarrassed by how childish he must have come across, begging his _big brother_ to stay with him because he’s scared of a battle that doesn’t count towards anything except Marnie’s enjoyment, Hop shifts his focus to Mordred, who’s impatiently awaiting him.

“Um…” He scratches his cheek nervously. “Let’s do our best?”

What else is there to say, really?

Thankfully, Mordred’s pre-battle enthusiasm more than makes up for his uncertainty. She holds up her talons, gaze piercing into Hop. It takes a bit for the penny to drop, but once it does, he can’t help but laugh.

Holding his own hands up, he high fives her.

“I’ll try not to embarrass you, partner.” Hop says with a smile. Mordred nips him with her beak, croons, and heads onto the field, shuddering with excitement.

Across from him, Marnie stands at the ready. Piers is no longer beside her, but as Leon has done, is standing at the sidelines nonchalantly.

“Wait!” Marnie raises one of her hands. “Let’s do proper intros! Like in real matches! Piers! Give me an intro!”

“Do I have to?”

“It’d make me happy if you did.”

“Give her an intro, leader!” One of the bystanders exclaim. The rest of the spectators follow suit.

“C’mon! The princess deserves it!”

“Mar _nie_! Mar _nie_!”

“Do it, mate!”

“Piers!”

From out of nowhere, someone tosses a microphone over the chainlink fence lining the stadium. Piers catches it without looking. Maybe that’s a thing that happens a lot here? People spontaneously producing microphones? It explains the stage.

“All right, _all right_!” Piers heaves a heavy sigh. Bringing it to his lips, he begins. “On this corner, we have the demon of darkness, destroyer of souls and dreams, the single hope humanity has to turn itself into a species worth caring about, the reason Spikemuth has yet to succumb to eternal antipathy and disillusionment, our savior, our miracle, the future reigning Champion of the Galar region, little Miss Spikemuth herself, _Pokémon Trainer Marnie_!”

Loud applause follows, along with hoots and cheers. Marnie holds herself gracefully, waving to her fans in a very champion-like manner.

“And in the _challenger’s corner_ —“ Leon doesn’t bother with the microphone. His voice booms around the area just fine without it. “—we have the saint of all heavenly virtues, the progenitor of goodwill and happiness, the underdog to top all underdogs, the Hydreigon in Wooloo clothing, the hero from the south who’s come to take names and demand you learn your manners, the Pokémon whisperer, the tamer of Dragons, the one, the only, _Pokémon Trainer Hop_.”

Leon starts applauding the moment he’s done. Mordred screeches as loud as she can.

It’s…

… _really awkward_.

Nobody else reacts, which makes sense given they don’t know _who the heck Hop is_ and can _very much_ see the resemblance between him and the champion, who, he’s getting a feeling they don’t care for _at all._

Although, he feels a _little_ better about it once Arthur and Galahad burst out of their Pokéballs to join in. He’s on unfamiliar turf, but at least he’s got his own corner backing him, which is all that really matters.

He flashes them a thumbs up. They all return it with enthusiasm.

After that’s said and done, the battle begins.

And Hop…

Hop doesn't know _what_ he’s doing.

* * *

“You can’t keep dodging, Hop! You’ve gotta attack! Mordred’s getting worn out!”

“But what if she gets hurt!”

“That’s inevitable! She can handle it! Don’t underestimate her! You need to— _DODGE THAT!_ ”

“Dodge!” Hop yelps as Marnie sends Obstagoon charging at Mordred, arms swinging. His claws graze her. That isn’t good. Mordred’s usually fast enough to avoid that.

Leon’s right. She’s tired because all Hop’s done is tell her to dodge or block or both. There’ve been plenty of good openings to try and get some damage in, but every time, he’s panicked and wasted them. Every jab and screech and lunge from the opponent’s side has had him worrying more about whether Mordred would come out of the battle bruised and battered rather than how he’s supposed to exploit it for the win.

Leon and Raihan make it look so _easy_.This is one of the most difficult things he’s ever done!

And all his panicking won’t matter in the end, because Mordred’s going to be too tired once he finally wills himself to command an attack out of her.

“Hop!” Leon’s voice breaks through his panic. “Stop overthinking and start analyzing! I said strategy’s key, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be strategizing!” Hop squeaks as Obstagoon lands a nasty blow on her side. Mordred screams, stumbling back. Marnie takes advantage of the fumble and demands a Throat Chop out of him.

“Kick him as hard as you can!” Hop cries. Mordred shrieks, rocking onto her back. With the most force she can muster with legs, she knocks them into Obstagoon’s torso violently, scrambling to her feet to place more distance between them.

“Hop, you need to think fast!”

“I’m _trying_!”

“No, you’re thinking brute force! That’s _not_ what this calls for!”

Hop _knows_ that, but what else is he supposed to do? All of Mordred’s moves are a jumbled mess in his head. Which ones can he use to finish this as quickly as possible? Which one will end with her sustaining the least amount of damage?”

“You’re the smartest kid I know, Hop! _Think_!”

“I _am_!”

Leon presses his lips together as he watches, frustrated as his words fail to reach Hop.

After a few more minutes of watching him struggle to get Mordred out of the desperate pinch she’s found herself in, his muddled expression clears.

“You’re worrying about her getting hurt, right?”

“Yes!”

“Use that!” Leon says. “She doesn’t have the power left, but what _does_ she have? _Variables_ , Hop. You’re good at examining those. You have everything you need. All that’s left is to think outside the box. Marnie’s being aggressive. That’s her style. What’s _yours_?”

Her style?

 _His_ …style?

…Huh.

That’s right. Marnie _is_ being aggressive.

She’s been launching hit after hit their way without letting up. She wants to overwhelm them.

Hop…that’s not him.

What _is_ him?

_worried about mordred getting hurt, not enough power, examine the variables._

_i have everything i need._

_marnie’s being aggressive._

_think outside the box._

_my style._

_not marnie’s. not leon’s. not raihan’s._

_hop’s._

_if i can’t fight fire with fire, what can i do?_

_what’s the hop thing to do?_

_what’s—_

That’s it.

“Mordred!” Hop yells, garnering everyone’s attention. “You’re really, really cute!”

There’s pin drop silence.

Even Obstagoon has stopped mid-movement, confused by his declaration.

“You’re super _duper_ cute! The cutest Haxorus in the history of Haxorus! When we get home, I’m going to dress you up in all those pretty ribbons you like! Can you imagine how much cuter you’ll be with them? The absolute _cutest_! We’ll take a bunch of pictures and get them printed and put them all over the stadium! Everyone will be able to see how adorable you are! They’ll be jealous! They’ll wish you would give them the time of day, but you _won’t_ , because you’ve got better things to do than to bat a single eye at anyone who doesn’t deserve to admire all your cuteness! They can’t handle it! Nobody can! That’s how cute you are!”

All his compliments do _exactly_ as he intends. Mordred is _glowing_ now, almost _glittering_ , her tail wagging happily.It may be in service of the flimsy plan he’s concocted, but none of his words are lies. There really is no other Pokémon who can pull off the same adorably vicious and charmingly bloodthirsty look she can.

“Give Obstagoon a glimpse of that!” Hop points forward. “Attract!”

Because that’s what _happens_ when you water a flower, show it kindness, compassion, and affection.

It grows tall and proud and _shines_.

Like a lovesick fool, Obstagoon falls for it, going all heart-eyes for Mordred like Hop was desperately hoping he would. Anything to incapacitate him and give Mordred some breathing room to garner the last of her strength.

While Marnie tries to get Obstagoon to snap out of Mordred’s very charming spell of cuteness, Hop starts setting up. He needs to. Mordred won’t be able to turn the tides otherwise.

“Laser Focus now! Like when you’re training and Galahad starts pulling his ghost tricks on you!”

Galahad nods from the sidelines. He’s well aware of how troublesome Mordred finds it. She’s not exactly patient, and it drives her up the wall every time Leon has her hone her sight with his vanishing acts.

Mordred goes completely still, like a statue. Hop doesn’t have to see them to know her eyes are honed in on her target, still flopping around uselessly, attempting to get her attention. He has it all right.

“Think of Arthur now!” Hop sends her forward. “Give ‘em your meanest Outrage yet!”

Mordred roars, wisps of crackling, crimson energy enveloping her body. She charges forward, arms swinging, appearing everything an enraged, furious and majestic dragon should.

However, just as she’s reaching him, Obstagoon finally snaps out of it. Marnie doesn’t falter.

“Obstruct!” She commands.

Obstagoon crosses his arms and releases the most shrill, ear-drum bursting screech he's ever heard. Hop quickly cover this ears, squinting through the pain.

Mordred’s clearly taking the brunt of its force, but she’s still trying her very best to push through it. To tear through the protective sound barrier Obstagoon’s created in front of him.

She’s just barely holding on. The red layer of energy encasing her body is flaring violently, bursting at the seams, begging to be unleashed, but Mordred doesn’t have it in her to continue. Her entire body’s trembling with agony, her blood-curdling cries reaching Hop even over the Obstruct. They're gut-wrenching. His entire body grows cold at the sound of them.

That doesn’t matter to her though. She’ll press on, despite how much it hurts, because that’s how she is. So stubborn, so reckless, so—

Her next wail breaks Hop.

“WE YIELD!” He screams, rushing onto the field. Marnie immediately calls the move off. Obstagoon retreats with haste.

Before Mordred can hit the floor, Hop slides in to catch her. A bad idea assuredly, one that leaves his pants torn and his knees scraped up.

It doesn’t matter.

“M-Mordred!” He cries, propping her up the best he can. She’s not light at all, but Hop can be strong when it counts. “I-I’m so _sorry!_ A-Are you okay—wait, that’s a stupid question.” He hugs her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault!”

His apologies are met with weak reassurances, Mordred curling around him protectively, resting her chin upon his head.

She’s limp in his arms.

“I’m sorry.” Hop repeats. “I’m so sorry.”

She lets out a quiet groan. Hop holds her tightly, cursing himself for his inability to make the right calls to prevent this from happening. If he’d just acted quicker, not fumbled around like an _idiot_ , this could have been _prevented_.

She would have won.

It it were Leon, she would have won.

A strange sensation of emptiness suddenly hits him.

Hop blinks, Mordred’s form breaking apart into smaller particles of light in his arms. He scrambles to hold onto her, but there’s nothing to hold besides thin air.

She’s gone.

“Up here.”

He looks up.

Leon’s holding Mordred’s Pokéball in one hand, offering the other out to Hop, his countenance empathetic.

“She’s fine.” He assures him softly. “A trip to the Pokémon Center and she’ll be right as rain.”

“How do…How do you do this?” Hop asks numbly as he’s hauled onto his feet. “How do you—This is your _job_?”

“It is.”

“It’s…how do you get over that?” His hands are still trembling. He clasps them together in a fruitless attempt to stop it. “That’s—I don’t like that.”

“It’s…a mutual understanding.” Leon stares at the capsule. “Sounds bad, but that’s what it is. Mordred, Arthur and Galahad too, they enjoy it. I used to worry they didn’t, but I know they do. They’ve made it clear to me. I like it too, so we all accept that moments like _this_ —“ He points to Hop’s hands, still shaking. “—are inevitable. I can’t afford to run onto the field to check on them for every scratch, and they don’t want me to. They want to give their everything, until the very last moment. A trainer is somebody who’ll allow that of them. Somebody who’ll let them hit the ground without flinching.”

“I…I can’t.” Hop’s chest constricts painfully. “I can’t, Leon. I _can’t_. I can’t do that.”

“It’s not exactly easy, but a trainer does what they need to do. If you want to win, that’s what’s required of you.”

“If that’s true, I don’t want to win. I don’t think I want to be a trainer.”

“That’s—“ Leon’s face contorts briefly. If Hop’s learned anything, it’s that his craft is his life and he wants nothing more than for Hop to share that sentiment.

He’s ready for the champion to make a case for him to think otherwise. To convince him his worries are a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things. That all he needs to do is toughen up and stop fretting about Pokémon getting hurt and command them like a fearless general.

He doesn’t.

Instead, his brother smiles kindly.

He speaks to Hop without a hint of derision or condescension.

“That’s okay.” Leon utters. “You…You don’t have to be. Not if you don’t want to.”

There’s a tinge of disappointment in the way he says it, though it’s not enough to damper his attempt at being considerate towards Hop’s aversion to what he loves most. They’ll probably always disagree when it comes to this, but that doesn’t have to be a _bad_ thing.

“You okay, Hop?” Marnie trots up to them, worry etched all over her. “You looked a little spooked there.”

“I-I’m fine.” He responds, embarrassment belatedly crashing onto him like a bath of ice cold water.What a show he must have put on, and in front of her hometown crew to boot! “Not used to it is all. Was my first battle.”

“I could tell.” She says bluntly. “Wasn’t a bad first go at it. That last stretch was mighty clever of you. Made me a little jealous even.”

“Jealous?”

“Sure.” Marnie’s grin is teasing. “That Haxorus of yers sure is lucky, bein’ showered with all those compliments.”

Hop’s cheeks puff out.

“That’s just strategy.” He huffs, face tinting pink. “If her being cute can help, why not use it to our advantage?”

“A mighty fine strategy it was. Ya probably woulda lost even if she managed to hit though, but that’s obvious.”

“You’re full of it!” Hop blows a raspberry in her direction, which she returns just as petulantly.

“Stop harassin’ your opponents, sis.” Piers joins them, Obstagoon presumably tucked back into his pokéball. “Not without me, anyway.”

Leon narrows his eyes.

“The day you harass my brother is the day I bury you six feet under.” He says, voice lacking any humor or levity.

Piers shrugs.

“Sounds good to me.”

“ _Without_ your bass.”

“You’re a sick fuckin’ man, you know that champ?”

* * *

After Mordred and Obstagoon get healed up ( Hop spoiling the former while Marnie does the same with the latter) they head back to the apartment to have at Raihan’s generous dinner time offerings.

“It’s for our nightly ritual sacrifice.” Piers tells Hop while he and Marnie busy themselves warming the dishes up. “For when we raise hell. The demons fancy his cooking.”

Marnie elbows him.

Leon sighs.

“Can you not.” He requests at Hop’s mildly disturbed expression. “And it’s not _that_ bad. He’s improving.”

“Is that yer bias or s’that the truth? Because that fella could feed you _rocks_ and you’d wag yer tail and beg him for more.”

"You make it sound like I should be ashamed." Leon drawls, a smile tugging at his lips. "Rocks or not, I'd call it a banquet. He's so talented."

“ _Ugh_.” Piers shudders, lulling his head over in Hop’s direction. “What’s yer take, half-pint? Should I fear for my life? S’that elite’s cooking safe for consumption?”

“Elite?”

“Raihan.” Leon translates.

“Oh. It should be. Unless he was in a bad mood.”

“Was he?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Thankfully, Raihan was _not_ in a bad mood.

They all dig in, Hop pouring them all a glass of whatever fruity concoction Raihan topped the thermos off with. He's pretty sure he recalls the gym leader mentioning plans at trying his hand at it a few days back. He’d have to ask if he could make it again. The perfect balance of sweet and sour leaves Hop’s taste buds tingling with joy. A winner for sure.

“Say champ?”

“Yes, Miss Marnie?”

“How come ya never do any societal work?”

Hop nearly chokes on his drink.Is this really an appropriate conversation to have during dinner? Not that it should be surprising. Marnie has little reservation about inquiring into matters that are on her mind.Her gall is certainly admirable. Hop’s always one to hold his grievances for _after_ , a habit ingrained into him after his mother’s many etiquette lessons. Not to say that he thinks Marnie’s being rude, but the thought of earning another one of his mother’s long-winded lectures is still too fresh a terror on his mind.

“What do you mean by that?” Leon inquires, brows furrowed.

“Like, I know ya do all that charity stuff and hospital visiting and whatnot, but don’t you ever wonder if you could be doing more for Galar?”

“Marnie.” Piers sends her a pointed look. He looks distinctly irritated, although it hardly seems directed at her. “What’d I say?”

“He’s _here_ , isn’t he?” She argues. It’s clear they’ve had this discussion before. Perhaps that’s why Piers appears discomforted and, Marnie, seconds away from popping a blood vessel. “Isn't it better to get answers from the source? I may as well ask him directly.”

“I told ya, we—“

“Mr. Champion.“ Marnie speaks over her brother. “Why? Why don’t ya ever do anything _useful_? People are starvin’ y’know. People don’t got homes, people don’t got schools to go too, and yer sittin’ pretty up in yer fancy stadium with yer fancy clothes and all the grub you can get yer hands on. Doesn’t that make you feel _anythin_ ’? Don’t ya think it’s embarassin’ for you to turn a blind eye to it?”

The sudden accusations have shocked Leon into silence. Hop doesn’t blame him. It’s not every day he’s confronted with a ten year old questioning his ethical decisions.

He isn’t given the opportunity to offer up answers however, because Marnie continues on with her abrupt verbal onslaught.

“I don’t mean to attack ya, but I’ve gotta wonder what the point of havin’ all those cameras on ya is if you don’t use them for anything worth advertisin’. A champion is supposed to be the protector of their people, ain’t they? What have you done to live up to that? ‘cause all I’ve seen is you prance around in that dumb cape of yours and act like a joke.” She scoffs.

Hop can sense her temper flaring, despite her attempts at hiding it. She has the champion right in front of her. He isn’t going anywhere. It’s the perfect opportunity to rant at him, even it’s riling her up in the process and making Piers look like he’s in the middle of combatting a massive migraine.

“You’ve gotta know how…how _frustrating_ it is to see you stand there, on television, and act like you’re doing everyone a service by _existing_.” She slams her fork down. “I know if I were you, I’d be doing all I can to pitch in. To help out folks in need, not just in Spikemuth, but _everywhere_. People are sufferin’ and you and the chairman and the league act like Galar’s some shiny utopia where nobody’s got troubles and not a single person’s belly rumbles ‘cause they don’t got anything to eat except what they can scavenge form the _rubbish bins_. That ain’t _right_.” The usually calm, sea foam green of her eyes have darkened into grey, stormy waves, crashing violently against the shore. “But I guess I can’t expect much from a bloke who can’t manage to get his own younger brother to believe he cares even one bit about him.”

Ah.

Leon’s demeanor immediately shifts into something much _much_ less pleasant.

The warm golden glow of his irises darkens into a muddy amber, the corner of his lips curling downward, marring his expression with a frown that would frighten any lesser being.

Not Marnie.

Never Marnie, who looks a second away from hurling her plate at his face.

“Sis, cut it out.” Piers sighs heavily. “I've already told you exactly why he can't do that.”

“Stay out of this, Piers.” Marnie growls, fists clenching. “He needs to know what he’s done. What he _hasn’t_ done. That he’s a crummy champion and and even crummier _broth_ —“

“ _Marnie_.”

Whatever vitriol she is about to shout at Leon is halted. Slowly, Marnie turns her attention to the space next to her.

“Stop.” Hop requests quietly, his countenance pleading. “ _Please_.”

Marnie opens her mouth to say something, but whatever she parses from his reaction leads her to snap it shut. She rises from her seat, chair scraping against the tile floor.

“I’m not hungry anymore.” She mutters, storming out of the room. A door is slammed shut, leaving the small apartment to wallow in dead silence.

The three remaining kitchen occupants remain seated, unmoving.

“…should you—should I…?”

“Leave her.” Piers says, pushing his plate aside. “Her blood’s runnin’ hot.”

“All right.” Hop nods, slowly shifting his attention to Leon, who’s running a hand over his face. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” He responds tiredly. “I had a feeling this was coming. She had this look in her eye since we got here.”

“I mean…is she right?”

“Hop—“

“I’m not trying to antagonize you.” He quickly clarifies. The mood’s effectively been tarnished, but that doesn't mean they can’t discuss the obvious Copperajah in the room. “I’m just— _is_ she? Is that something you could help with?”

“Your brother’s just a figurehead, runt.” Piers replies with a click of his tongue. “The hell does he know about policy? He’s just here to battle.”

“I _could_ help. Y’know, a _little_.” Leon says that, but he doesn’t seem sure of himself at all. “The league…they don’t really listen to me much. If it’s not about my matches or schedule or sponsors, they…don’t care? Usually? I mean, I got them to change the age requirement for challenges, but that’s about it. I’ve tried to get them to look into Spikemuth— ”

“I recall askin’ you _not_ to do that.” Piers glowers at him. “I recall askin’ you to do the _opposite_ of that.”

“All I’m saying is that I could try and get the Chairman to—“

“To _what_? Have Macro Cosmos buy us out?” Piers rolls his eyes. “Let’s say they do that, champ. What next? They tear the whole place down, put up shiny new condominiums, install a fuckin’ _power spot_ or whatever the fuck the old man is always goin’ on about. Let’s say they do that. What happens next? What’s our favorite vocab word? I know you know it.”

“Gentrification.”

“ _Gentrification_.” Piers sneers. “They raise the property value, force everyone who can’t afford rent out. Where does that leave Spikemuth? Wyndon _two-point-oh_. I’m not havin’ that shit. Yeah, we’re bad off, electricity’s finicky, we don’t get many visitors or league aid grants because of the stupid nonexistent fuckin’ _power spot,_ but I’m not sellin’ my people out. I’m not taking away the only place they can call home. No fuckin’ way, so shut _the_ _fuck up_ about it.”

“I-Isn’t there anything else you can do?” Hop asks his brother. Surely, an influential person like the champion would be able to pull _some_ strings? “You’re famous, aren’t you? Can’t you, like, I don’t know, make a public announcement about it? Tell people to invest here or something?”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I mean I legally _cannot_.” Leon says with a grimace. “I’m contractually bound not to say anything my sponsors deem ‘ _controversial_ ’ or ‘ _potentially damaging to my image_.’ Since Piers and Spikemuth itself are always at odds with the league, and they always prioritize sponsor demands, for them, it’s easier to tell me to never comment on anything than to deal with the potential repercussions.”

“They can’t do that!” Hop exclaims, shocked by the revelation. He knew Leon had a certain image he was required to maintain, but controlling what he could and could not speak about? How is that _legal_?

“Oh, they can.” Piers confirms. “They’ll hold a scrap of paper over yer head whenever it’s convenient. Pretty shitty, but it is what it is.”

“What happens if you break the rules of the contract?”

“The chairman gets his lackeys to bash yer kneecaps in.”

“What?” Was Hop’s father’s story true? His mother wrote the _prior_ chairman was the one accused of that dirty business! Was Chairman Rose _also_ —

“No, he _doesn’t_.” Leon quickly dismisses the idea, sending Piers a dirty look. “It would end in legal trouble for me and _everyone_ involved, including Spikemuth. I’d rather that not happen, so I don’t push my luck. I’m sure the chairman himself would be open to lending a hand, but Piers doesn’t want to consider it.”

“The rest of Galar can beg ‘im for scraps, but I ain’t a fuckin’ _Yamper_ , and neither are any of the folk here.” Piers says with finality. Leon pulls his cap off to run a hand through his hair, frustrated. They’ve clearly had this conversation a million times over. That’s probably what Raihan meant by their differences in opinion.

It’s a wholly complicated conversation, Hop gathers. Leon can’t openly express any desire to help Spikemuth, because it goes against the terms of his contract. He can offer them support via his connection with the Chairman, but Piers is adamantly against it, because it would push all the lower-income denizens out of the city and leave them without a place to seek affordable housing. It’s at the cost of Spikemuth’s infrastructure, as they receive little to no aid on account of their lack of a power spot, apparently? That’s a very silly reason to ignore a city in its entirety, but perhaps the reasoning behind it is far more sinister than simply feeling vindictive over the lack of Gigantamax and Dynamax capabilities within the premises.

All in all, a complex web of intricacies that leave Hop’s head spinning. It certainly places a lot of things into context, perhaps not as pleasantly as he would prefer.

No wonder Marnie’s hatred of Wyndon is so poignant and her dreams of becoming champion so earnest and genuine, if _that's_ the way she and her neighbors have been treated. Postwick may not have a school, and Wedgehurst one criminally underfunded, but it’s not like they’ve ever been maliciously targeted by the very representatives expected to place the needs of Galar’s people before anything else.

And what about the Chairman? He was incredibly kind to Hop throughout all of their interactions, but does that generosity not stretch farther than his immediate business circle? As the chairman, shouldn’t he be aware of these issues? Shouldn’t he make an effort to try and resolve them? The league is surely comprised of many people who have their own agendas, but surely he holds important weight as the c _hairman_ , right? Spikemuth is as much a part of their lucrative Champion Cup as the rest of the gyms, isn’t it? Does it not deserve the same attention?

“I’m getting a headache.” Hop whines, rubbing at his temples. “This is so _confusing_.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, kid.” Piers tells him. For how horrible the situation is, he doesn't appear especially bothered by the downright sad circumstances of it all. “It’s not that bad. My advice? Stay in school and hope for the best. Marnie’ll be champion in a few years, anyway. She’s the one we can count on to kick ass and get shit done.” He glances at Leon. “Woulda done it _earlier,_ if it weren’t for _you_.”

“I’m so very sorry, Piers.” Leon drawls sarcastically. “How could I have been so selfish and cruel so as to recommend to the league that parents _not_ send their ten year olds into the wilderness to fend off wild Pokémon on their own?”

“Isn’t that what you did?” Hop asks with a frown.

Leon smiles.

“I’ve done a lot of things.”

“True.” Hop nods, looking at the empty seat beside him. “Do you think now is a good time to talk to her?”

“Maybe. Hold up a ‘sec.” Piers gets up and trudges over to the mini fridge situated at the corner of the room. He swipes something from the freezer compartment and tosses it over, Hop narrowly managing to catch it. “That’s her favorite. Should put her in a better mood. “

Hop reads the label. It’s a small container of razz berry flavored ice cream.

“Is it okay if I’m the one who goes?” He asks hesitantly.

“Why not?” Piers waves his hand flippantly. “Reckon she’d appreciate a mate right now.”

“You’re not going to kill each other while I’m gone, are you?”

“You think my scrawy ass is capable of that? Your brother’s a brick fuckin’ house.”

Said brother kicks him under the table.

“We won’t, Hop.” Leon replies pleasantly. “I hate him, but not enough to cause him bodily harm.”

“Tell that to my fuckin’ ankle, _asshole_.”

“Shut the _fuck_ _up_.”

Hop sighs and leaves, ignoring the bickering that follows his exit.

It occurs to him that he doesn’t know where to begin his search. This problem is immediately remedied when he spots the only closed door in the short hallway, the same one he recalls entering the apartment from.

Hop knocks a few times, calling out Marnie's name and requesting to be allowed entrance. When he receives no response, he does something so immeasurably uncouth, it would bring his mother to tears.

He opens the door without express permission.

And finds…

…nothing.

Well, maybe not _nothing_. It’s the same room from before. Same floor, same walls, same window, open and letting in cool air from the outside.

Outside.

It’s not exactly a profound deduction to make, but Hop knows _he’s_ got a penchant for escaping to high places whenever he’s feeling down or upset or plain mischievous. It doesn't mean Marnie is, but it's worth a shot.

He climbs out the window, the steel gratings clattering under this feet. Securing the ice cream in one hand, he climbs the rest of the way up, a feeling of triumphant settling upon him when he spots two legs swinging over the ledge of the building.

Assuredly not safe in the least.He has little room to talk though, given he’d done the same exact thing earlier that day.

“Hi.” Hop says when he reaches his friend.

Marnie glances at him, Koko cradled in her arms.

“Hi.” She hesitates briefly before patting the space next to her.

Hop plops down, admiring the view of the alleyway below them. He can make out Pokémon skittering around in the darkness. Purrloin perhaps? A few Zigzagoon too, fighting over a scrap of food.

“Sorry.” Marnie says suddenly.

“For what?”

“What I said. Wasn’t called for.” She looks at him. “I made that personal. I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s…well, it’s, um, it’s not okay. I didn’t like that you did that, said that about m-me and him.”

“I’m sorry.” She tells him with genuine remorse. “I won’t do it again.”

“I forgive you.”

They lapse into silence. Hop doesn’t know what to say. Leon and Piers explaining matters to him doesn’t help how fruitless the situation feels. He can’t magically make Marnie’s frustrations go away, just like he can’t magically get the league to start caring or to stop silencing the people who work for them.

Spikemuth is losing on all fronts, it seems like.

“Y’know, it’s not like I don’t get it.” Marnie pokes Koko’s cheek. The Morpeko gnaws on her fingers playfully. “Piers explains everything to me whenever I get upset about it, but it doesn’t make me feel better. I know it’s not simple. If it were, we’d be a lot better off.” She sighs. “I just…I want to change things _now_. I want to be champion _now_ and try to improve everything for everyone. When I see your brother, and how it’s always about the spectacle with him, it makes me wonder what the point of being a champion even is. If I get there, will I end up the same as him? Not doing a thing to help anyone? Not caring about anyone?”

“I-I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t care.” Hop offers. “His bosses don’t let him do anything without their permission, and since they rely on him to make a profit, they want to make sure they control everything he says and does. That’s not right, but that’s how it is.”

“I wouldn’t care.” Marnie replies confidently. “I’d do it anyway. ‘Cause a ruckus. Get the people on my side. It may be difficult to pull off on my own, but if all of Galar is watchin’ me, I’m sure I can get them to listen. I’m sure…” She trails off uncertainly. “I like to think I’m sure. I don’t know if I really am.”

“I think you can do it. If anyone can make them listen, it’s you.”

“Ta, mate.” She smiles. “I’d like to think that, too.”

They fall into another silence, before Marnie asks him a question that catches him off guard.

“D’you believe that?”

“Hm?”

“D’you believe that? When you say you think he cares.” She looks away. “You said he left you. That doesn’t sound like it to me. He said he wants to be better, but that’s a mighty difficult task after what he did.”

“I…” Hop stares at the concrete below them. “I’m...trying to. I want to believe him, but it’s hard. I haven’t believed him in forever, so when he says stuff like that, I always think he must be lying.”

“Then how are you so sure?”

“I’m not.” Hop laughs weakly. “I never am, but I want to try. I want to give him the chance to prove himself. I want to have a brother, and I want to believe he cares about me. Even if it’s hard and even if he makes me mad and even if I end up thinking the worse, I want to _try_ , because…because I don’t want to hate him anymore.

Marnie observes him for a few moments.

"...I guess if you're puttin' in the effort...I can try and do the same." She says quietly. "If you've decided that, then I'd be a prat not to give 'im the benefit of the doubt. Don't think it'll be easy, but I'll give it a shot."

"You don't have to."

"I want to." She says, smiling at him. "If it's for my best mate, it's the least I can do. Yer family and that's mighty important. To me at least."

Hop can work with that. Maybe one day, they’ll be able to laugh about this and say how wrong they were for doubting the foolish Charizard man.

For now, Hop’s content with taking every day a step at a time.

“By the way, whatcha got there?” Marnie asks suddenly.

“…Oh.” Hop holds out the container in his hands. “Ice cream. Piers said it makes you feel better.”

Marnie’s cheeks flush.

“Only a little bit.” She mumbles, accepting it. She tears the wooden spoon off the bottom. “Wanna share?”

“There’s only one spoon.”

“I gotcha.” She snaps it in half, holding one half out.

Before he can reach out to take it, Koko intercepts, snatches it and the container away from them, and runs off, down the fire escape and to who knows where to enjoy her stolen goods.

Hop and Marnie stare at one another.

They start laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry if anyone’s disappointed by Hop’s aversion to battling.  
> I feel like this take on him isn’t one that has that same tenacious drive for it as Leon, even when we place all the family drama aside.  
> I think with time, he can certainly grow more comfortable with commanding Pokémon, devising strategies, and reacting to whatever’s thrown his way, but it’s not something he’ll actively pursue outside of supporting his friends and family and the occasional for-fun mock battle with Marnie, Raihan, or even Leon.  
> That’s just me, though !!
> 
> Edit: We have art by the lovely Linniegirl313 [here!](https://www.instagram.com/p/CDi0mu6AUNT/?igshid=98mmwfj8x3xj) It's so beautiful 🤗


	17. the love that binds us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hop has a good day.

“Your birthday’s coming up.”

Hop’s spoonful of cereal only makes it halfway to his mouth.

Raihan briefly stops humming from where he’s washing dishes at the sink, picking it up again seconds later.

Across the table, Leon patiently awaits a response.

Hop sets his spoon down.

“Is it?”

“Did you forget?”

“I wasn’t paying attention.” That’s a lie. Hop’s been eyeing the calendar for days now. Birthdays have always been a wonderful treat for him. They’re happy memories, full of cheer. To be the one to bring it up sounded a little childish though. “How did you know?”

“I’ve always known. I’ve never _not_ known.” Leon casts a remorseful look his way. “I’m…I’m sorry. I should have done more for it. I should have been there. I thought about sending you something or stopping by but…it never seemed like a good idea.”

“It’s all right.” Hop would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little broken up about it, but it’s not _that_ big a deal. Begrudging him over it is pointless. It’s as Leon’s said, they’re together now. Hop’s going to take that in stride. “What about it?”

“Is there a way you want to spend it? Somewhere you want to go or something you want to do?”

“I don’t really have anything in mind.” Hop scratches his cheek. “Back home, we always kept things simple.”

“Barbecues?”

“How do you know?”

“That’s how it was for me too. Before…well, _before_. Sonia would come over and we’d play all kinds of games. And…Dad would be there too. He always was, until he wasn’t. It was nice.”

“He never came to mine.” Hop swirls his spoon around his bowl. “Sonia did though.”

“I’m sorry…” Leon trails off into another guilty grimace. “I… _really_ should have been there. No matter what, I should have—I shouldn’t have been—I’m _sorry_ , Hop. I’m so sorry."

“It’s all right.” Hop repeats, with far more ease than the first time.Is this how it’s always going to be? Apologizing over the past? He hopes one day it’ll just be a given. He knows there will always be issues they need to resolve, but he doesn’t want that weighing on either of them. “We can celebrate now, can’t we? You missed a lot, and I missed a lot, but we can make new memories together…right?”

“I’d really like that.” Leon smiles warmly. “Is that something you’d like to do again? A barbecue?”

“I think it’s a good idea.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. We can invite everyone along, if that’s something you want.”

“Sure.”

“Guess we’ve got a plan then.” Leon declares with confidence. “We've gotta decide on a location now. Any ideas, Rai?”

“There’s a nice spot by Axew’s Eye.” Raihan suggests, glancing over his shoulder. “Plenty of room, nice view of the lake. We can set up some games, bring our gear. Fish, too.”

“Can we?” Hop exclaims, excited by the prospect. “Sonia and I used to fish by the lake next to her house. Can we really?”

“Of course we can.” Raihan replies with a wink. "We can do whatever the birthday boy wants. Your day, your rules…except if whatever you want to do is potentially life threatening. If yeah, then nah. No way.”

“C’mon, Rai.” Leon releases an exaggerated sigh. “Let him hyper charge a den and unleash havoc upon Galar. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“You can do that?” Hop asks, leading forward in his seat. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Me neither.” Leon tells him, copying the movement, his grin giddy. “Y’see, I don’t think _anyone_ knows. I only know because one day when I was training, I got _really_ _curious_ so I asked Arthur if he could—“

“ _La-la-la!”_ Raihan starts chanting loudly, drowning out his words. “ _Hop’s not listening, not listening to anything at all, he’s not going to cause an apocalypse on his birthday because that’s very irresponsible for his grown ass man of a brother to suggest and not ace at all—la-la-la!_ ”

“But it’s for science!” Hop whines. “I need to hear this, Raihan!”

“And I need you to _not_ blow up Galar by accident. I need _neither_ of you to do that, especially not on your _birthday_.”

“Rai thinks my team and I will be hit with a special and rare kind of Galar Particle that’ll make us stronger if we give it a try.” Leon whispers loudly. “Can you imagine if I was able to Gigantamax? Permanently? Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

Hop considers it briefly.

“Your caps wouldn’t fit you anymore.”

Any and all enthusiasm is drained from Leon’s face, replaced instead by horror.

“Okay, never mind. That sounds _awful_.”

“The law of equivalent exchange.” Hop chalks it up to, before another, far more interesting idea hits him. “Wait, what if _Raihan_ could Gigantamax? How tall would he get?”

“I’ve got a theory he’s always been in his Gigantamax form.” Leon replies, utterly serious. "That he’s just been flexing on us this entire time. It isn’t often, but sometimes I see those clouds around his head.”

“Does that make him a Pokémon?”

“I think. This idea’s a little out there, but try to follow. I reckon he’s a _Dragon-type_.”

“That makes so much sense.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Since my favorite pair of comedian brothers think it’s so amusing to come up with conspiracy theories about me—“ Raihan shuts off the sink with a flourish. “I guess that means that I’ll be watching 'Detective Gabite III’ all by myself, and spoiling the ending whenever I get back. Have fun with your gossiping, brats.”

Two pained, desperate cries echo throughout Hammerlocke castle, followed by its guardian’s maniacal cackles.

A typical day in the Dragon’s Den as of late.

* * *

Hop’s excited when the day finally rolls around.

He wakes up to a lively serenade, Leon’s singing abilities making themselves known again alongside Raihan’s equally as pleasant voice, while the ‘mons release party poppers and blow on party horns. It’s all topped off with a pile of hotcakes with two number one candles imbedded into it, ‘happy birthday hop’ written neatly in vanilla icing. Leon’s handiwork no doubt.

“C’mon, Hop! Make a wish!” Leon tells him with a face splitting grin, the party hat on his head lopsided. “But don’t say it aloud or it won’t come true.”

“Don’t be like _you_ basically.” Raihan laughs. “You always do that.”

“I’m a very confident person.”

“More like full of it.” Hop sticks his tongue out, Leon chuckling in response.

A wish, huh?

Hop cannot recall much of what he used to ask for. Toys maybe? Books?

He knows once it was for a Charizard. Once it was for his mother’s health.

Once for a brother.

Two out of ten can’t be all that bad, he gathers as he glances around the table on all sides, surrounding by pleasant, warm smiles and maws. He’s got the Charizard and the brother now, even if it took a while. Maybe not his mother anymore, but there’s only so entitled a person can be.

Something simple this time around seems appropriate.

_i hope we can all stay together from now on_

Hop blows out the candles, garnering applause and hugs all around, mainly from Dee. Hers are especially slimy.

Even if it chooses to ignore every future birthday wish to follow, Hop hopes the universe will be kind and grant him this one.

Just this one.

It’s all he really wants.

After wrapping up the morning festivities, they all prepare themselves for the day, making small, last minute preparations.Just as they’re about to take off for the skies however, Raihan stops Hop, offering something out to him.

“For your special day.” 

“Is..Is that a tiara?” Hop questions incredulously. What on Earth is Raihan doing with that? “That’s…that’s not real, is it? That’s plastic, isn’t it?”

“Nope.” Raihan states matter of factly. “One-hundred percent a family heirloom. Yours to wear for the rest of the day.”

“I can’t wear that!” What if he broke it? What if he _lost_ it? What was Raihan _saying_? “Th-That’s your family’s!”

“I know. That’s why I’m asking you to wear it.”

Leon makes an indecipherable sound from where he’s burying his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck.

Hop doesn’t pay it any mind. How can he?

“I-I…” Hop eyes the tiara. Hundreds of years old no doubt, and yet still glittering beautifully. An understated ore imbedded with cerulean jewels.There’s something oddly familiar about it, but he doesn’t know why. This is the first time Raihan’s shown him this accessory, so why does it look—

Oh.

Hop gasps.

“That’s—“ He squeaks, unable to finish his sentence.

Raihan does him the favor of completing it.

“Lady Charlotte’s? Sure is.” He looks at it contemplatively. “Legend says she wore it during the Scourges, when rebel Galarian kingdoms were hunting down any dragons they could get their hands on. Hammerlocke was a hot spot for them, seeing as we’d earned their fealty, so they banded together to take us down.” He scoffs. “Didn’t work. My gran met them with fury. Armored up, grabbed her spear, got her partner Hydreigon ready. Her lady-in-waiting stopped her before she could head out. Told her she wasn’t going anywhere without properly dressing herself for the occasion. Placed the tiara right on her head. Apparently, she fought all those battles with it. Didn’t fall off or tilt or anything that entire time. That’s where that story about worthiness comes from. If you’re worthy, it’ll stick on your head and grant you her strength.”

“Sh-Shouldn’t that be somewhere safe? Like, in your vault?”

“Usually it would be, but I’m trusting you to take care of it today.” Without further delay, Raihan places it upon his head, tucking it just above where his fringe begins. “Now _that’s_ a birthday boy look if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Really?” Hop tentatively touches the tips of the tiara. It feels secure enough, as if it’s latched onto his head. Whether that’s the legend in play or a clever mechanism to prevent any fashion mishaps is unclear.

“For sure.” Raihan holds his phone up. “Would you mind standin’ with your bro for a sec? You _match_ and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my entire fuckin’ life.”

“It really does suit him." Leon comments, poking the tip of the tiara. "You look like you're about to get _your_ Hydreigon and beat some baddies."

"That's probably the legend." Hop _does_ feel more powerful wearing such an important piece of history. Or maybe that's just a placebo effect?

“I'm thinking it's all Hop.” Leon flashes his Charizard hand sign. “Say Eevee!”

“Please pose, too.” Raihan requests, readying his camera. “If you want, Hopscotch.”

Feeling slightly self-conscious, Hop hesitantly copies Leon.

“His first one!” Raihan cries, camera shutter going off at an unprecedented speed. “He did it, Lee!”

“Send them to meee!”

“You two are so _embarrassing_!"

They take off shortly after that.

Raihan deems the flight the _Ultimate Tiara Test,_ ordering Flo to zip around the sky like a zigzagoon with wings while Hop holds on for dear life, his borrowed tiara never once dislodging itself from atop his head.Maybe it’s that same magic that keeps Leon’s iconic cap steady no matter the circumstances. Perhaps their family also had an ancestor who won wars while wearing pretty jewelry on their head. The possibilities were endless.

As they approach the Wild Area overhead, Hop starts to get giddy.

While his only real memory of the place consists of spraining his ankle and crying at his brother during a horrid storm, he’s open to the idea of creating more pleasant ones.

He can’t imagine himself ever training here as Leon does, but he _can_ picture himself venturing into the wilderness for the sake of research. There are so many plants and Pokémon worth learning about and discovering, the Wild Area a perfect place to see them with his own eyes. Maybe he could be like the professor or Sonia? Even Oleana? They did that kind of stuff a lot.

He thinks he wouldn’t mind it at all.

The area they touch down on is just as beautiful as Raihan described it.

A crystal blue lake stretches out before them, surrounded by tall grass, varied wildlife and flowers. Farther south lies a wooden bridge, connecting two pieces of verdant land shrouded in greenery. The water breaks every so often, revealing fins or mouths or long tails before they disappear yet again into the deep watery depths.

“This is so nice!” Hop says, eyes glowing bright. “Really, really nice!”

“Told ya.” Raihan ruffles his hair once they’re on solid ground, unhooking Hop from his harness. “Excited?”

“Yes!”

“About time you three showed up.”

The trio glance over towards a clearing beside the lake. A portable grill is set up at the center, alongside a few coolers. There’s a pitch black tent set up a few meters to the side, the flaps waving about in the wind.

Sonia stands beside the grill, hands on her hips, a teasing smile on her face.

“Was beginning to think you ditched us and went to PokéLand or something.”

“ _Scones_!” Hop cheers, running over to her. She takes him into her arms, squishing their cheeks together affectionately.

“Butterscotch!” She twirls him around. “Happy birthday, _cutie_! I can’t believe you’re already eleven! Stop growing up so fast!”

“I’m not _that_ big.”

“Tell that to the gal who’s known you since you were in diapers.” She lets go and squeezes his cheeks. “At this rate, you’ll be going off to uni tomorrow. I’m going to cry, y’know. I might cry now.”

“C’mon, Scones.” Hop laughs. “I’ve still got a long time before then.”

“I hope.” She gives him one last squeeze before turning her attention to the men behind Hop. “Rai, always a pleasure.”

“Always a displeasure to know you’re not mine.”

“Tis the nature of our forbidden love.” Sonia returns the embrace Raihan envelops her in. “Thy heart has been stolen away by that hooligan with the Charizard.”

“Hey, he’s pretty fuckin’ hot.”

“Eugh.” Sonia shudders. “Please don’t say that about my bosom buddy. I really don’t need to hear that.”

“Because you don’t go all poetic on me whenever you talk about—“

“ _Hey_ , Leon.” Sonia brushes past Raihan. “Good to see you. Been a while, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ve been busy.”

“Busy with your long game of hooky?”

“What else?” Leon sighs. “Trying to make the most of it, honestly. Can’t keep it up forever. How’s your uni thing going?”

“Still narrowing it down.” Sonia rocks on her heels. “Heavily leaning towards Wyndon. Can’t knock the notoriety and acclaim. Good undergraduate study, too. Besides, I’ve always been a city girl at heart.”

“Guess I’ll see you around then.” Leon smiles. “Or not. Wyndon’s a big place.”

That statement brings a frown to Hop’s face.

It’s not that he’s never thought about it, but after witnessing what Leon’s work schedule usually consists of and observing how exhausted it makes him, he assumed that Leon would simply never return to work.

It’s a ridiculous conclusion to make. He’s the _Champion_. It’s his job to be in Wyndon, battling and going to publicity events and the like. Of course he’s going to return to work eventually. The only reason he went on personal leave in the first place was because of their mother’s passing and the need to help settle Hop in.

If Leon started working again, what would that mean? Would he be taking Hop to Wyndon with him? Would he leave Hop behind with Raihan? He said the reason he decided to stay in Hammerlocke was because of Raihan’s ability to take care of them.

But if Leon started being the Champion again, what would happen?

Would they leave Raihan?

Would he keep Hop with him?

Or would Leon leave them both?

“Better hope you do.” Sonia’s response cuts through his thoughts. She playfully punches Leon’s arm. “Someone’s gotta point you in the right direction whenever you’re lost.”

“That’s true. As long as you're around, that means Bolt is, too. I'm in safe hands.”

“Hey! I help out too!”

“Since _when_?”

The two begin to bicker with one another, leaving Hop to join Raihan at the makeshift camp.

Something—or rather _someone_ —catches his eye by the lake.

“Nessa?” He says, surprised. He wasn’t expecting to see her.

“Hey.” She greets him casually, legs submerged in the water. Picking up on his confusion, she explains herself. “Sonia asked if I wanted to tag along. Said it was your birthday. Since you’re the Applin of her eye, thought I may as well join in.” She glances at Raihan. “Wasn’t expecting to see _you_ here.”

“A mistake on your part.” He tells her, setting down their bags. “Where the king goes, his dragon follows.”

“Don’t you mean where Leon begs you to go, you agree because you’re too smitten to refuse him?”

“That’s exactly what I just said.” Raihan jabs a finger at Hop. “Also, he is my hatchling. Don’t be mean to him, or I’ll be mean to you.”

“I brought him a gift.” Nessa turns her attention back to Hop. “Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for not saying that first.”

“Thank you very much. You didn’t have to bring me anything though.”

“Think of it as repaying a favor.” Her lips quirk upward. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hop replies innocently. Anything he may or may not have done purposely cannot be proven.

Nessa laughs.

“Cheeky.”

“He gets it from me.” Leon says as he and Sonia walk over to join in.

“Couldn’t tell.” She offers out a fist. Leon bumps his own against it. “Sup, champ. Been a minute since I’ve seen you. Heard a lot of chat. Not sure what’s true and what’s not.”

“Personal stuff.” Leon tells her. “Passing in the family.”

“Oh.” Nessa blinks, expression turning sympathetic. “Sorry about that. You’ve got my condolences.”

“I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” She frowns. “That’s…that’s a lot different from what I’ve been hearing.”

“And what’s that?”

“That you’re retiring.”

Leon doesn’t seem very surprised about that nugget of gossip.

“Is that right?”

“Yes. I mean, I didn’t _believe_ _it_ , but after the hiatus and then the exhibition match and then _another_ hiatus, I wasn’t really sure what to think.” She shrugs. “Not like it’s a problem if you are. I just figured if you were, there’d be a good reason for it.”

Leon purses his lips.

“As far as I know, I’m still under contract, but the league does as it pleases. Wouldn’t be surprised if they dropped me.”

Nessa rolls her eyes.

“Morons, the lot of them. They’re telling me I’m at risk at being demoted to the minors. Like, I get that I’m not on a win-streak or anything, but it’s coming out of _nowhere_. My record isn’t that egregiously different from everyone else’s, but they think it’s time I _rethink my options_.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“That’s what _I_ said!” Nessa clicks her tongue. “And I know that it isn’t based on anything credible. I’ve been trying to get them to push for more investment into conservation. Y’know, toeing the line between what they can call me out for? I retweeted _one_ post. _One_ little post about the issues Hulbury’s been having with poachers. _Bam_. Immediate cease and desist my way. A call from that whiny guy—“

“—I hate that whiny guy—

“He’s the _worst_. Tells me I’m not doing as well as I should.” Nessa scoffs. “ _Rethink my options_. I think what I should be rethinking is not rearranging his face.”

“Um, Ness?” Sonia points at Hop. “Um…”

“Oh. Sorry.” She sighs, running a hand through her sleek locks of hair. “Didn’t mean to run my mouth there. I’m just real sick and tired of this push and pull.”

“Yeah.” Leon replies quietly. “Me too.”

“It is what it is.” Nessa says weakly. “Or whatever Piers says.”

“That’s the gist of it.”

Hop blinks at the familiar voice. He turns around to see the flap on the tent being pushed aside.

“Marnie!” He exclaims with a smile. “You’re here!”

“I am.” She grins. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks!” Hop pauses. “Um, what are you doing in there?”

“Takin’ care of my bro.” She jerks a finger backward. “He got overheated walking down here.”

“It’s not that warm, though?” It’s not _freezing_ , but describing the temperature as anything except mildly room temperature wouldn’t be truthful.

“He’s very delicate.”

“You better fuckin’ believe it.” Pier’s voice echoes from the depths of the makeshift cavern. “My body’s not made for this shit.”

“We appreciate the effort.” Raihan hums as he unfolds a camping table, not at all phased by the behavior. “We appreciate your lovely attitude too.”

“You fuckin’ better.” He grumbles something along the lines of ‘ _fuckin’ bright eyed brothers_ ’ before he falls silent again.

As far as party attendees go, Hop thinks they couldn’t have assembled a stranger group.

He…kinda likes it.

* * *

“Okay!” Raihan claps his hands to gather everyone’s attention once everything is sufficiently set up, the ‘mons are roaming freely, Piers has been forcibly dragged out of his tent, and Sonia and Leon have stopped threatening to cut each other’s hair off after more bickering about whatever it is they were bickering about. “I’d like to officially announce that our special boy’s—“ He sets a hand on Hop’s shoulder and tugs him against his side. “—awesome birthday party extravaganza is officially on!”

Everyone applauds. Sonia’s near tears, clutching Leon’s arm for support while he whistles and hoots. _The duality of childhood friends at its best_ , Hop thinks, a little embarrassed by all the attention.

“To start things off, I’ve come up with a few different activities to spice things up.”

“What the fuck.” Piers groans. “Can I go back to my tent? I didn’t sign up for this shit.“

“Hey Piers?” Leon says pleasantly, turning brilliant golden eyes in his direction.

“What?”

“ _Shut the fuck up._ ”

“I agree.” Raihan cheerfully adds. “You’re going to activity and you’re going to _like_ _it_ , because today’s _Hop’s_ day, and if Hop wants everyone to fucking participate and sing campfire songs and do every other fun thing we’re going to do today, you’re going to have a good ole fucking time about it. ‘kay?”

Piers raises one very unimpressed eyebrow.

“Well fuck me. Okay.”

“ _Good_. Moving along.” Raihan smoothly proceeds with his next statements, scrolling through his RotomPhone. “I’ve got an itinerary here, but we’re not gonna treat it as law. Everything’s flexible and subject to change. The only two major events to try to stick to are barbecuing by late afternoon and to start packing by mid evening. Any questions?”

When there are none, Raihan continues.

“Ace. Today’s first event is berry gathering. Need ‘em for the BBQ.”

When all he’s met with is silence, Raihan sighs.

“ _Competitive_ berry gathering.”

That does the job in lighting the fire within all the gym leaders gathered.

“We’ve got a few ingredients we need to gather.” Raihan proceeds. “With the Wild Area ours to plunder, I thought it’d be a cool idea to—“

“Speed it, Raihan.” Nessa snaps her fingers. “I’m not losing.”

“Fuck you!” Piers growls.

Leon laughs haughtily.

“That’s real rich coming from a bunch of people who aren’t number one.”

“Would you all settle down?” Raihan snaps, regaining their attention. “This isn’t a solo project. No lone rangers. Everyone’s gonna team up besides me. I’m an impartial referee.”

“Can’t _I_ do that?” Piers begs. “I’d really like to do that. From my tent preferably.”

“ _No_. You’re just asking because you want to go to sleep.”

“Damn.”

“I’m gonna send everyone a list of what we need. The goal is to collect everything you’ve been assigned under a time limit. First team to make it back wins. Directions clear? Good? Yeah? _Great_.” Raihan tosses his phone into the air. “Tommy, start up that randomizer and pick our teams, would ya?”

“Bzzt—! Kay-kay!” The Rotom giggles, screen illuminating with a rainbow of colors to serve as special effects. “Bzzt—! Done-Done! Check them out, Rai-Rai!”

“Thanks, doll.” He takes his phone back and hums. “Ah, I see, I see. Our first pair is…Nessa and Sonia.”

“Oh _thank goodness_.” Sonia breathes a sigh of relief. “We have a chance.”

“Yeah we _do_.” Nessa takes Sonia’s hand, not visibly reacting to the way her face heats up in response.

“Problem with the rest of us, specs?” Piers drawls snidely. Sonia sends him a flat look.

“The last time we paired up for something, you told me you were tired and went home! Right in the middle of everything! I didn’t even get a completion ribbon because of you! It’s like you’re dead weight when it comes to teamwork!”

“That’s because I _am_. I’m gonna drag my feet this time too—”

“Next pair is Marnie and Piers.”

“…well _shit_.” Piers rubs a hand over his face, Marnie’s eyes alit with determination. “So much for that.”

“And lastly, my favorite boys, Lee and Hopscotch.”

“We’re gonna win this!” Leon declares confidently, holding his fist out for Hop to bump. He bashfully does.

“And to add a little incentive besides bragging rights, I’ve brought a super secret special prize along.” Raihan gestures to a white present box wrapped in a red ribbon perched atop the folding table beside the grill. “Whoever takes home the win, gets whatever’s in there.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s a framed picture of you.” Nessa grimaces. “I really don’t want that.”

“I do.” Leon says, winking at Raihan, who returns it flirtatiously.

“Think I’m gonna be sick.” Piers shivers, pretending to retch.

“Nah, y’all wish it was.” Raihan huffs. “Those don’t come free. Everyone ready?”

“I’m sorry Hop, but I’m not going to lose to you, even if it’s your birthday.” Marnie declares, taking hold of her brother’s arm. “No mercy!”

Hop feels adrenaline course through his veins at the challenge.

He normally wouldn’t call himself competitive, but the call of a win and a prize cannot be ignored. He isn’t planning on losing either! Especially not on his birthday!

“Good luck.” Hop's response is arrogant. “I’ve got the _Champion_ on my side!” Leon poses to drive home the point.

Marnie gasps.

“That’s a low blow!”

“No mercy!” Hop never could have imagined himself placing anything resembling a positive connotation to the title of champion, but if it gives them an edge, and Leon _just so happens_ to be the Champion, why not? He wants to win!

“An hour on the clock everyone. On your marks, get set—“ Raihan pauses, watching the three pairs carefully. “…go—“

He isn’t finished saying the word when the pairs have already taken off in different directions. Nessa speeds across the bridge, Sonia strung along behind her, struggling to keep pace. Piers and Marnie take off west, the latter dragging the former to the best of her ability. To the east, Leon hauls Hop over his shoulder and tears off at a blistering speed.

Raihan is left to watch, coughing slightly at the clouds of dust left behind.

“Good luck.” He offers a wave in all three directions before casting his attention towards all of the Pokémon wandering around their campsite. “Hey, anyone wanna play catch?”

He’s met with a symphony of enthusiastic cries.

* * *

“This is uncouth!” Hop complains, clinging onto the back of Leon’s sweater for dear life. “How dare you!”

“It’s faster this way!”

“Are you saying I’m not fast?”

“I’m saying I want to help you win.”

“Do you even know where we’re supposed to go?”

“Not a clue.”

“Stop!”

Leon does, sneakers skidding across the forest floor. Carefully, he sets Hop down onto his feet.

They’ve ended up in a dimly lit greenwood, a canopy of trees looming over them. To their left is a view of the lake. To their right, a lengthy range of cliff-sides. Certainly not a place Hop would ever want to fall off of.

“We need to be strategic. Like when you’re battling.” Hop takes his phone out, pulling up the message with the list of berries they need. “I don’t know much about finding berries, but I’m guessing you do.”

“Yup.” Leon confirms. “I’m an _expert_ at gathering. As long as you can point me in the right direction, I think we’ve got this in the bag.”

“That’s good. First ones are pecha berries.”

“Ace. Your favorite.” Leon looks around, observing their surroundings. “Those usually keep low to the ground. Shaded areas typically. They’re almost like flowers, except instead of a flower, the berry is the bloom. Little rodent Pokémon tend to munch on them, like Marnie’s Morpeko.”

“Wow.” Hop wishes he brought his journal along. This sounds like useful information. “How do you know so much about them?”

“I know it sounds a little unbelievable, but I do like researching things every once in a while.” Leon smiles. “I’m not an avid reader like you, Raihan or Sonia, but if there are things I think might be useful, I like to take the time to learn about them. Since I’m out here a lot with my team, knowing which berries and herbs can help them out if we’re ever in a pinch is valuable information. It’s saved our skins plenty of times.”

“You could use your phone to look it up.”

“Tried it once. Ended up poisoning Arthur real badly. I thought, instead of depending on faulty information to give me critical life-saving details, I should learn them myself so I don’t end up making things worse for my ‘mons or myself.”

“Very smart of you.”

“I have my moments.” Leon’s eyes light up. “There’s a few of them over there. C’mon.”

They find a few bushels of them along the cliff walls. A problem arises when they realize they don’t have a bag to carry them in, but it’s quickly resolved when Leon offers up his cap as a basket.

“Sacrifices must be made.” He laments. “Next?”

“Mago.”

“Huh. Another one you like. I’m getting the hunch Raihan may be playing favorites.”

“He _does_ like me a whole lot.”

“It’s kinda difficult not to. You’re pretty likable.”

“Thanks?” Hop pauses, looking to the side. “I…I think you’re kinda…sorta likable too. Only a little though.”

“Arceus strike me down now. Is that a _compliment_ I’m receiving? From pouty, grumpy-head Hop _himself_?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, I _definitely_ will.”

Hop gives his arm a weak punch. Leon recoils as if he’s been dealt a devastating blow.

What a silly guy.

Their search for the Mago berry takes them farther into the forest. The ambient sounds of the different Pokémon species that call the area home are relaxing.

“Say, Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Is what Nessa said true?”

“About what?”

“About the league?” Hop contemplates the grass beneath his feet as they walk alongside each other. “I know you said they don’t let you help anyone ‘cause of your contract, but are they really that bad? Do they…do they really make everything difficult for you? For everyone else?”

Leon doesn’t immediately respond.

“…Do you want an honest answer or do you want one that’ll make you feel better?”

The words aren’t meant to patronize.

Leon sounds matter of fact. As if the statement is one which has been repeated to him in much the same manner many times.

“An honest one, please.”

Leon takes a moment to consider.

“…The league’s main concern is turning a profit. It’s as simple as that. The gym leaders, both the minor and the major league, along with the Champion…that’s what their use is. We bring in sponsors, we drive interest and ratings and merchandise sales. We’re a means to an end. That’s all we’ve ever been. That’s all _I’ve_ ever been. Nessa can’t speak out about poaching, not because of what that’ll do to _her_ image, but because of what that may or may not say about the league. They’re not interested in making enemies out of anyone, even those who are objectively bad people. Even _poachers_.” Leon scoffs with disgust. “Piers can’t do anything about Spikemuth, because he’s made a point to be vocal about their practices and they don’t like it. They’ve sanctioned him a ridiculous amount. He’s got one sponsor and it’s from his _own_ _town_. I can’t bring in aid, no matter how much I want to, because they’ll tear up his town and rob them of their identity. I can’t do _anything_ about it, because the Champion isn’t _supposed_ to take sides. I’m not _supposed_ to have opinions. I’m just meant to battle and win and shill out sports drinks to whatever demographic they think I should be appealing to on any given day. So, to answer your question, _yes_ , the league makes everything difficult. And sometimes…” He trails off, brows furrowed. “Sometimes, I don’t even know _why_ I stick around for it.”

Hop lets his words hang for a moment.

“…is it really just sometimes though?”

“Hm?”

“ _Is it_ just sometimes?” Hop repeats, gazing upon his brother sadly.

It’s one thing to see him on the telly, smiling at the crowd with his precious Charizard at his side, mask on for everyone to laud and praise.

It’s another to know exactly where the cracks lie.

Leon regards him thoughtfully.

“…no Hop.” The tired Champion of ten years quietly tells him. “It’s never been just sometimes.”

* * *

“How much time do we have left?”

“Two minutes.”

“Perfect!” Leon speeds up his pace, the sight of their camp slowly coming into view. From where he’s being piggy-backed (a far less demeaning means of travel), Hop can barely make out the distant forms of Nessa, who’s bridal-carrying a very embarrassed Sonia, and Piers of all people, running at them with an unprecedented speed, Marnie on his heels.

“You’ve gotta hurry, Leon!” Hop cries. “They’re going to beat us to Raihan!”

“Like hell they are!” With energy reserves Hop doesn’t understand _how_ he still has, Leon sprints even faster.

Still, it’s going to be a close call.

“We’re going to lose!” Hop clutches the hat full of berries close. All that hard work for nothing!

“No, we’re _not_!”

In a move that really _should_ have been expected from all parties involved in the competition, Leon opens his mouth and screams—

“ _BABE_!”

Raihan’s head snaps up immediately from where he’s petting Sonia’s Yamper, apparently none the wiser to the three factions about to run him over.

In one swift movement, Leon maneuvers Hop into his arms and tosses him forward, sending him careening through the air.

Raihan is on his feet before Hop’s shriek manages to force itself into existence.

He catches him with a grunt, tottering back a few steps from the force of the impact.

“What the fu—“

“WE HAVE THEM!” Hop exclaims, shoving the cap full of berries into his face. “We have them, Raihan! Do we win? Do we win? We made it first! We must’ve won!”

“LEON, YOU CHEAT!” Nessa roars, setting an incoherent Sonia onto the grass, marching right up to the champion. “You’re a rotten _cheater_!”

“Strategy.” Leon taps his temple smugly, barely even panting. “All there is to it.”

“You _scoundrel_.”

“Can’t deny my flaws.”

“I told ya you should have thrown me!” Marnie whines, stomping her feet. “I said it was a good idea! We would have won if ya did!”

“Do you honestly believe these spindly ass arms of mine could manage _that_?” Piers asks incredulously. “Sis, ya know me better than that.”

“Did we win?” Hop asks again, peering at Raihan with bountiful amounts of hope, golden eyes wide, innocent and pleading, glittery star-like details swirling around his irises.

“…Team Best Boys wins.” Raihan announces simply, hugging Hop to his chest. “You’re so cute, Hopscotch.”

“I know.”

Piers scoffs.

“Gimme a break.”

Sonia wheezes, falling onto her back.

“Give me CPR. Preferably Nessa.”

* * *

“Second challenge—!”

“Question.” Piers raises his hand. “If you’re just gonna give the win to yer husband and child, why the _fuck_ are we even going through the effort?”

“That’s a very loaded accusation against the sanctity of this competition and my ethical and moral standards.” Raihan huffs, hugging both Leon and Hop closer to his sides. “I would ask that you shut the fuck up and play the damn game.”

“Question.” Nessa raises her hand.

“Yes?”

“If my partner has reported severe heart palpitations, am I allowed to sub someone else in?” She pokes Sonia’s cheek. She stirs slightly against Nessa’ shoulder, but otherwise, does not react.

“I…guess there’s no rules against that.” Reluctantly, Raihan peels himself away from the brotherly duo. “I’ll be your partner. Sonia can keep score.”

“Of what?”

“Of our catches!” Raihan announces. “Next up is fishing! All pairs have got three opportunities to wrangle up the biggest Pokémon you can manage. You’re allowed to release the first two if they’re not up to your standards, but whatever the third one is, that’s it. No take backs. That’s your ‘mon of choice. Understood?”

“Question.” Marnie raises her hand. “What happens if there’s a tie?”

“We facilitate a duel to the death.”

“Okay.” She nods. “Sounds good.”

“I…I was joking.”

“That’s fine, too.”

Sonia replaces Raihan on the referee chair and everyone gets started.

“We’ve gotta pick a good spot.” Leon tells Hop, glancing around the lake. Nessa and Raihan have taken up towards the northern most side of the water, Marnie and Piers on the bridge. “Any ideas?”

“Water-types tend to gather where there’s an abundance of vegetation.” Hop recites from memory. “I think we should look for a spot where there are lots of plants, since that’s what they tend to eat.”

“Nice plan.” Leon holds up his hand. Hop high-fives it. “Let’s get going.”

They find a decent spot a few meters down the bank from where Nessa and Raihan are seated. Naturally, Leon and Raihan use the opportunity to throw jabs at one another, much to the annoyance of their partners.

“Nice hair, _asshole_. Get it done in the middle of a jet engine?”

“Nice headband, _dumbass_. Last I checked, sentient oranges were out of season.”

“Oh, nice come back, ya git. Do you talk to your husband that way?”

“ _No_ , because my husband is a very kind, learned, and loving gentleman. He never gives me reason to compare him to tropical fruits.”

“You’re exaggerating. I bet that Raihan guy’s not all that great.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my Raihan that way. He’s perfect in every conceivable way.”

“Lee…”

“Rai…”

“If you don’t stop flirting with the competition, I’m going to impale you with this rod.”

“You are so _vulgar_ , Nessa. Not in front of my family— _Ow_!” Raihan whines as she pulls on his ear. “Ow, ow, ow! Okay, _okay_! I’ll stop! I’ll _stop_!” Longingly, he holds a hand out in Leon’s direction. Leon does the same.

“Would you focus?” Hop requests, shaking his head at the way his brother folds his arms across his chest and pouts at Nessa’s warning glare. “You can hold hands with him later.”

“Later is a long time from now.”

“Then you’d better hope we fish up something good soon.”

The unfortunate fact of the matter is, all of their catches end up being mediocre despite Hop’s suggestions. Three Magikarp on the smaller side of their sizing scale don’t give them much of a chance at winning.

“It’s okay, little guys.” Hop pets each one of the Pokémon’s crown like fins. After release, they’d stuck around and allowed him to run his hands over their scales.

He knows they don’t have a very positive reputation, the Pokedex especially cruel when referring to their species. As is the case with Feebas however, Hop feels a certain kinship with the severely underestimated finned creatures.

“There are bigger fish in the water, but you all have a place here, too.” He says kindly, admiring their crimson coloring. One of them playfully nips at his fingers while the other two swim around the vicinity, eyeing him with curiosity.

“Told you you’re a natural.” Leon comments, watching him fondly. “You’re really good with pokémon, Hop. Seriously.”

“You think so?”

“Do you need more proof than that? Magikarp are normally really skittish. You’ve got eight dragons under your thumb. I don’t know what else to say to convince you that you’ve got a special touch with them.”

“I’m not trying to do anything special though…”

“That’s what it is. You’re _not_ trying. You just _are_. You’re _you._ That’s why they feel they can trust you. That’s all they need.”

“Just me, huh…?” Hop mumbles, wading his hand through the water. The Magikarp follow it back and forth, before commotion from farther down the lake abruptly startles them away.

“Reel ‘em in, Ness!”

“I'm _trying_!” Nessa’s face pinches up in concentration. She digs the heels of her sandals into the ground beneath her, the sheer power of whatever’s taken a bite of their line dragging her forward. Raihan takes ahold of the fishing pole as well and pulls back. Even with his extra strength, they both struggle to remain standing and not be pulled into the water by the vicious ‘mon refusing to relent its grip.

“Need some help over there?” Leon remarks casually, leaning back on his hands.

Raihan glowers at him.

“Not _now_ , Lee!”

“Just trying to make polite conversation.”

Raihan cannot offer a retort because Nessa is suddenly sent lurching forward. He’s barely able to latch onto her waist in time to pull her back, his own shoes steadily losing their grip on the damp mud below his feet.

“One shot!” She yells. “On three, we pull as hard as we can! Ready?”

“Go for it!”

“One, two, _three_ —!” Nessa lets out a battle cry at the same time that Raihan roars, the duo pulling with all their might, arm muscles straining as—

“Oh my goodness!” Hop watches in awe as a _Gyarados_ is hauled out of the water, looking very…

Very angry actually.

“LOOK OUT!” Nessa shoves Raihan away, launching herself to the opposite side as the Gyarados embarks upon land, violently tearing across the foliage, letting out a blood-curdling screech.

Leon reaches for his waist, belatedly realizing all of his Pokémon are with Sonia across the lake.

“Damn.” He clicks his tongue, whipping around towards his brother. “Hop, we have to…“

He trails off.

Hop isn’t beside him anymore. He’s running at the Gyarados.

“Hey!” Hop yells, waving the fishing pole in his hand around menacingly. “Leave them alone!”

The Gyarados turns their ire his way. Hop vaguely hears his name being called in all directions, but doesn’t pay it any mind. He won’t have anyone, not even a big scary Pokémon, hurting his guests at his _awesome birthday party extravaganza!_

It’s his duty to deescalate the confrontation!

It’s what’s required of a proper gentleman!

The pokémon roars, a ball of light taking shape within their mouth. Hyper beam no doubt.

Hop stands his ground.

“This is very rude of you!” Hop scolds. There’s nothing worse than rude people—er— _pokémon_ in this case. “Not only is it rude to everyone present, but also incredibly rude to your friends in the water! You startled away the Magikarp I was having a very pleasant conversation with! Look at them!” Hop jabs his fishing pole towards the water, where the shadows of different pokémon species are huddled together just below the surface, observing the stand down with unease. “Don’t you feel any _shame_?”

Miraculously, the Gyarados shuts their mouth, taking stock of their fellow lake mates. Remorse clouds its expression.

“You see, don’t you? They’re frightened.” Hop softens his tone. “Although, I can understand why you’re angry too. You were looking for food and we dragged you out of your home without your consent. That’s not nice at all, especially not if its for a silly competition. I’m very sorry, Gyarados. I hope you can forgive us for disturbing you. We’ll keep your feelings in mind in the future.”

The Pokémon considers him.

Slowly, they shuffle themselves back into the water, until only their head is poking above the surface. Hop trots over.

“I’m really sorry.” He reiterates. “We’ll leave you alone now.”

They nod, tilting their head, before sprinkling a mist of water at Hop.

He smiles.

“I accept your apology too…” He glances at their barbels. They’re white. “ _Miss_ Gyarados?”

Miss Gyarados nods.

Hop beams.

“I’m sorry, Miss Gyarados.” Carefully, he runs a hand over her crest. She leans into the touch. “See you later. I hope you have a nice day.”

Another spritz of water his way and she’s gone, down into the depths of Lake Axewell. Hop waves goodbye to her and the rest of the Pokémon who offer streams of bubbles and light water guns his way in appreciation.

There’s complete and utter silence for a few tense moments.

“…That was surreal.” Nessa blinks, glancing at Leon. “You think I can take him back to Hulbury with me?”

Leon grins, a prideful gleam in his eyes.

“Nope.”

The only one visibly displeased by recent events is Raihan, who marches over to the boy finalizing his farewells to the creatures of the lake.

“ _Hop_.”

Raihan’s tone is severe, flat in a way that tells Hop he’s done something very _very_ foolish again.

Slowly, he turns around, briefly meeting Raihan’s eyes before they drop to his shuffling feet. They’re too intense.

Raihan’s _mad_.

“What did I say?” The dragon gym leader’s voice is even. No nonsense. “I know you remember what I said.”

“You said not to do dangerous things.” Hop mumbles, kicking at a rock.

“Why?”

“B-Because I can get hurt. You don’t like seeing me hurt.”

“Forget about _me_. This is about you. Why shouldn’t _you_ want to get hurt?”

“Because…getting hurt is bad?” Hop tilts his head, brows furrowed. “Because it’s common sense?”

“ _Hopscotch_.” Raihan sighs with the force of five different disappointed parental figures. He falls to his knees, and even then, it only barely puts him level with Hop’s height. “You should care because your well-being is _important_. You can’t just step in front of a— _holy fuck_ —a _hyper beam_. That could have—Don’t _do_ that. _Never_ do that!”

“But what if she hyper-beamed you or Leon or Nessa?” Hop argues with a frown. “I didn’t want her to hyper beam any of you. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“You getting hurt isn’t any better. Besides, I could have tanked that hit for everyone.”

Hop’s expression flattens.

Raihan slumps over.

“Okay, _maybe not_. Point is, think before you run into something like that. What if she hadn’t listened? What if she attacked you anyway?”

“But she didn’t.”

“What if she _did_?”

“I…prolly woulda gotten hurt.” He mumbles. “M’sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“I have a feeling that’s not true.” Despite the exasperated nature of his words, he ruffles Hop’s hair, careful to avoid the tiara.

This catches Nessa’s notice.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask.” She gestures towards the diadem. “That’s a really nice crown you’ve got there. Don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. Where’d you get it?”

“Raihan’s great great great grandnan.” Hop replies simply. “She and her Hydreigon unified Galar and liberated the dragons with it.”

“I…don’t know what else I was expecting you to say.” Nessa lays a hand on his shoulder and steers him forward. “C’mon boys. Let’s go tally our scores up.”

When they arrive back at camp, it’s to find Marnie and Piers on the ground beside Sonia’s chair. Marnie has her knees pulled against her chest, glumly drawing circles into the ground with a stick while her brother is sprawled on his back beside her, completely soaked, Sonia’s jacket covering his face.

“What happened?” Hop asks with concern.

“Piers got dragged into the water.” Marnie explains, a pout on her lips. “We lost our fishing rod and couldn’t catch anything after that.”

“I like how you left out the part where I almost drowned.”

“No, you didn’t. Stop exaggeratin’.” She kicks at his ankle. “How’d you do with your fishin’?”

“Magikarp. Nessa and Raihan caught a Gyarados though.”

“Hop made friends with it.” Leon chimes in. “Isn’t that amazing?”

“Sure is.” Marnie smirks. “Bet if he caught it he’d be able to beat ya in a battle.”

“Probably. He’s that amazing.”

“Ain’t he?”

Hop covers his flaming face.

“Can we please move on to the next game please?”

* * *

“We’re playing cards?”

“Thought it’d be a good way to wind down before we start cooking.” Raihan shuffles the deck. “Not to brag, but I’ve got the Champion Cup Edition. My jawline looks really good in this set.”

“Your pictures are on these?” Hop picks up the box. Leon’s image is plastered on the front, the back littered with the rest of the gym leaders.

He’s severely underestimated the marketability of sports stars if there were _card sets_ advertising them. It really shouldn’t be a surprise at this point.

“Yup. I’m the ace.” Raihan takes out said card and holds it next to his face, mimicking his pose. “Cool, huh?”

“Pretty ace.”

“Nice one.” Marnie flashes him a thumbs up. Hop returns it.

“I look goofy in mine.” Nessa frowns. “I think I had a migraine that day. They were telling me to smile but it ended up looking like I was biting on a lemon.”

“I think you look nice.” Sonia swipes one of the queen cards. “Very queenly. Majestic even. Mind signing this for me so I can put it in my collection?”

“Sure.”

“Um, _no_.” Raihan quickly snatches the card back. “These are _mine_ and if anyone’s going to be signing autographs on them and giving them out, it’ll be _me,_ the Great Raihan _._ ”

“Isn’t your autograph already on the box though?” Hop whispers to Leon, pointing to his neat scrawl on the front. “Not his…?

“Let him have his fun.”

Raihan quickly goes over the rules after he’s done passing out everyone’s hand.

Despite his objectively clear explanation, Hop is still left confused as to what exactly he’s meant to be doing or what the symbols means. Given that everyone else seems clear on the objective however, he doesn’t press for questions out of embarrassment and decides he’ll figure it out along the way.

If worst comes to worst, he’ll rely on Leon’s inexplicable talent for being good at most things. Card games have to fall into that category, right?

 _Nope_.

Not right at all.

Leon is the first to lose.

“Where is that showman’s acting ability?” Sonia asks, regarding him with confusion. “Why do you never have it when we play games like this?”

“Leon doesn’t have a good poker face.” Hop explains, staring at his cards helplessly. They were doomed for this game. “The Champion does, but not him.”

“Ah.” She nods, sending an approving look her childhood friend’s way. “There’s a distinction now, I see.”

“We’re figuring it out together.” Leon replies sheepishly. “What do you think?”

“I like it.” She winks. “Much better.”

“Thank you, oh great and benevolent Professor Sonia.”

“Be at ease, dear student.

Hop is the next to get out, naturally. Fumbling with his moves and not understanding the rules will do that with players as ruthless as Piers, Nessa, and Marnie.

He and Leon never stood a chance.

“Yer panic’s written all over your face.” Marnie snickers, eyeing him from the tops of her fanned out cards. “You’re such a goody-two shoes.”

“Oh _hush_!” Hop pouts, joining his brother in sulking. “I’ll get you next time.”

The game quickly devolves into a free for all. Marnie is quickly booted out next, followed by Sonia.

The rest plays out like a hyper intense movie scene taking place in a big famous casino with big baddies and undercover secret agents roaming around trying to foil a heist or evil plan to take over the world. One where the main characters have to win the game or fail their mission or…something like that. Leon sure enjoys watching them. Hop can understand the appeal.

“Nervous, Nessa?” Piers asks flatly, his expression giving nothing away. He’s the best at this. Not a twitch, not a shift, not a sign of nerves or insecurity. “You’re sweatin’.”

“I’m not.” Nessa wipes at her brow, struggling to keep her composure. It’s becoming difficult for her, Hop can observe. Maybe she doesn’t have a good hand. Not that he knows what one of those looks like. “I’m peachy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“…yeah?”

“ _Yeah_!”

“That’s nice.” Piers sets down his hand. “How about now?”

“ _Dammit_!” Nessa slams her fist against the table, tossing her cards down. “ _Every time_!”

“That’s how it be.” Piers lulls his head towards Raihan. “Score count please, fangs.”

“One for Team Brains and Brawn, one for Team Best Boys, and one for Team Bring Me to Life.” He hums. “Looks like this calls for a tiebreaker. Who’s up for fire-water-grass?”

Nessa quirks an eyebrow.

“ _That’s_ your tie-breaker?”

“It’s a game of skill and strategy.”

“No, it’s not."

“Not with that attitude.” Raihan grins. “Let’s make it spicy. Each team picks a representative. They’ll be the one to carry all the weight. Choose—“

“Piers.”

“Nessa.

“…wisely. All right.” Raihan turns to Hop and Leon. “Who’ll it be from your side?”

“I can win this, Hop.” Leon immediately says without a hint of hesitation or uncertainty. “I’m great at fire-water-grass.”

“But you always pick—!” Remembering himself and the audience not bothering to hide that they’re listening in on their conversation, Hop huddles closer and whispers. “You always pick _fire_. That’s what you said, isn’t it?”

“ _Yeah_ , because fire’s always the right call.”

“That doesn’t sound practical at all.”

“It _is_. Let me prove it.”

“I don’t know…”

“ _C’mon_ , Hop.” Leon pleads. “Trust me. I’ve got this. I can win us that prize. Let me win us that prize. Please?”

Hop doesn’t want to lose.

They’ve come too far for everything to go to pot _now_. Leon’s insistent on it, but what if fire isn’t the right choice? What if Piers and Nessa choose water?

But his brother looks so _hopeful_ (when _doesn’t he_ ). So earnest about such a silly little game. As if it’s life and death and not a child’s game of chance.

Hop doesn’t want to lose but—

Maybe they won’t.

Maybe Leon can win this.

What’s a little trust and faith hurt?

“…fine.” Hop agrees. “Go win us that prize!”

Leon beams.

“You got it!”

The three competitors ready their fists.

Nessa keenly watches them both. Piers stares blankly at his own hand. Leon is uncharacteristically serious, his golden irises intense. Not a single indication of a smile or worry or anything.

It’s just like when he’s battling.

“Ready?” Raihan asks. They nod. “All right, here we go. Fire…water…grass… _attack_!”

“ _No_!” Nessa groans, having used grass against two fires. “ _Dammit_! I knew I should have picked water! _”_

“Kind of funny given the circumstances.” Sonia snorts. “The water-type expert doesn’t choose water.”

“Just for that, I’m glad I didn’t win you that prize.”

“ _Ow_. Not nice, Ness.”

“You can do it, bro!” Marnie cheers as the remaining two ready their fists again. “Take the Charizard man down!”

“That’s the plan.” Piers glares. “He always fuckin’ picks _fire_.”

“I do.” Leon responds, voice gravelly, gaze unflinchingly burning into Piers’s slightly unsettled one. “I’m going to pick fire. I always do.”

“I bet you are.”

“I am. Pick water, Piers.” Leon tells him. “Make sure you pick water.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, mate. I don’t fuckin’ appreciate that.”

“I’m going to pick fire.” Leon reiterates yet again. “I don’t ever pick anything else. Water’s your only choice.”

“Stop fuckin’ with me.”

“I’m telling you the truth. Pick water.”

“ _Fuck you_.“

“Ready?” Raihan cuts into the chatter. “This is for all the marbles. Here we go—“

 _water_ , Leon mouths.

Piers grits his teeth.

“Fire…water…grass… _attack!”_

And the result is—

“FUCK!” Piers slams his head against the table. “EVERY. FUCKIN’. _TIME_!”

“Told ya.” Leon’s aura is smug, cheeky and all around triumphant. “I _told_ _ya_. And what’d ya pick? Huh? What’d ya pick, Piers? Ya picked _grass_.”

“ _I hate you_.” Piers mumbles into the table. Marnie consoles him with a head pat.

Hop cannot believe what he’s witnessed.

A mind game? A confidence breaking maneuver? A magic trick?

Fire being the right call?

 _Fire being the right call_.

“You did it, Leon!” Hop cheers, cheeks flush with joy, tugging his arm back and forth. “You really did it! You won!”

“What’d I tell you?”

“Fire is the right call!”

“Fire’s _always_ the right call.”

“Yeah!” Hop holds his hands up. Leon high-fives them with enthusiasm. “We won!”

“Was there any doubt?”

“No way!”

“Blind us some more will ya.” Piers groans, shielding his face, muttering _fuckin’ bright eyed brothers_ to himself _._ “You deal with this every day, dragon man?”

“Jealous?”

“I think my retinas have burnt out.”

“That’s what jealousy does, mate.” Raihan plops the present box onto the table. “To the victors, the spoils. Hope you like it.”

“Do the honors, birthday boy.” Leon gestures towards the prize. “Have at it.”

Hop nods.

Carefully, he unties the ribbon, tearing the wrapping paper away. He lifts the box’s lid off.

On the very bottom, uncovered and unconcealed, is a key.

Hop picks it up, the chain attached to it clinking with the motion. The art of key-forging is an unknown to him, but that does not impede his ability to appreciate the elegant and somewhat archaic design, a cerulean gem imbedded in the middle.

“What’s this…?” He asks dumbly. “Where does this go?”

“Where do you think?” Raihan replies, a secretive smile forming upon his lips. “Anything familiar about it?”

Hop’s face scrunches up in thought. The shape is recognizable in a sense, the two pointed barbs on either end clearly meant to symbolize the outline of a creature. The gem is what really catches his attention, as if he’s seen it very recently. In fact, he could say it’s the same shade of the gem on—

“No way.” Hop shakes his head in disbelief. “No.”

Raihan's smile grows wider.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“ _No_ —You _can’t_!” Hop holds it out to him. “You _can’t_! That’s not mine to have!”

“It’s mine to give to you.” Raihan pushes it back, settling the key back into his hand. “I want you to have it.”

“ _Raihan._ ”

“There’s nobody who deserves to have access to the vault more than you.” He says solemnly, his typical good humor absent in favor of firm resolution. “I don’t know anyone else who’s cared as much about my family’s history as you have. Those books, those tomes, those paintings and murals and records, they’re yours as much as they’re mine. I told you, didn’t I? Hammerlocke’s _your home_ , as long as you want it to be. And since it’s under my domain, and I can do whatever the heck I want with it, I’m giving you a piece of it. To keep for as long as you want. You don’t have to take it, but you’re welcome to.”

“But I’m not your—” Hop blinks back tears. “I’m _not._ ”

“You were the minute you stepped out of that train station.” Raihan says softly. “To me, at least.”

“…you really want me to have this?”

“I want you to take it if _you_ want it. Do you want it?”

“ _Yes_.” Hop hiccups, wiping his eyes. “I’d really like it.”

“It’s all yours.”

“Not to interrupt the moment or anything.” Piers indelicately cuts in, wincing when Nessa smacks his arm for it. “But were you plannin’ on handing that over to one of us if bright eyes hadn’t won?”

“Of course not.” Raihan scoffs, rubbing soothing circles onto Hop’s back. “If _you’d won_ , you would’ve gotten a nicely pressed dragon gym uniform. It’s called a switcheroo, mate. Look it up.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I call it doing your wardrobe a kindness. Now applaud the birthday boy.”

* * *

The day finally winds down with the long awaited barbecue.

“That’s one pretty sky.” Nessa notes, the sun on the verge of beginning its descent. “Like a painting.”

“I reckon there’ll be a wishing star shower soon.” Sonia responds, attention focused on the smoked vegetables. “Conditions are calling for it.”

“You can predict that?” Marnie inquires from her side, eyeing the grill with anticipation.

“Not one hundred percent, but we’re getting better at it. Has to do with air pressure, visibility, global positioning, and a variety of other situational factors.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“A little. We’re cracking down on patterns as we go.” Sonia claps the tongs in her hand. “Now, who’s ready to eat?”

Sonia’s cooking abilities are just as wonderful as Hop recalls them being, everything perfectly seasoned and marinated. The smoke of the grill lends everything a nice charred layer, delighting Hop’s tastebuds with every bite.

“Reminds me of when I was a kid.” Leon tells him. They’re seated by the lake, splashing their feet in the water. “I used to always look forward to barbecue days. They always meant something special.”

“Like what?”

“Birthdays, get togethers, surprises…” Leon pauses. “They usually meant our dad was coming back, too. Mum would prepare ahead of time. She’d always get so impatient about it.”

That’s the first Hop’s heard of that. He assumed his father had simply up and left one day, never to return.

Apparently, that wasn’t the case?

“D-Did he leave a lot?”

“Yeah. He was always out and about, since I could remember. Mum used to tell me he was a traveler at heart. Didn’t like sticking around in one place for too long. He’d leave for months at a time, come back and stay for a few, and leave again.”

“R-Really?” The essence of that traveling spirit rings correctly from the content of his mother’s letters, but hadn’t he decided to settle down in Galar with his mother? Their father went through the effort of buying her parent’s house from them _for goodness sake_. Even if he didn’t like staying in one place, wasn’t having a family enough to strike those urges down? What happened to all that talk about raising children and open spaces and what not? “Did it…did it bother you?”

“A little.” Leon admits. “I mean, I was happy with the time we were able to spend together. He and I got on really well. We still do.”

“He’s _alive_?”

“Last I heard.” Leon answers casually, as if this isn’t critical information for Hop’s investigation. Granted, he doesn’t know about it, but still! “He’s a trainer too, y’know. Not a champion, but that’s only because he never wanted to be. Taught me almost everything I know.”

“Did you ever tell him you wanted him to stay?”

“Occasionally.”

“What did he say?”

“He’d laugh it off. Tell me maybe one day. Until then, there was still a lot for him to see. I used to want to go with him.”

Hop blinks, an iron ball settling at the pit of his stomach.

Did that mean Leon would be tempted by the wider world one day, too? That he’d leave Hop behind and only come back occasionally?

“D-Did you want to see the world, too…?” He asks hesitantly, hands trembling.

Leon shakes his head.

“No, it was never about seeing sights or anything. I love Galar. Couldn’t imagine up and leaving like that. On vacation, maybe. I don’t know how he did it. I…I don’t know. I just thought that if I was with him, he wouldn’t be able to forget about me. He’d _have_ to put up with me, whether he wanted to or not. He couldn’t just…leave me all alone.”

“Who could forget about you?” Hop blurts out, befuddled by such a silly sentiment. Leon? Forgettable? Surely, Milktank could fly if such were the case. “You’re not forgettable at all.”

“That’s a lot more difficult to believe than it is to say.” Leon smiles weakly. “That used to scare me, y’know. When I was younger. I…I loved him so much. I still do. He was everything to me back then. I looked up to him. I wanted to be just like him. I think…I think part of why I wanted to be champion so badly was so that he could see me. I thought, if I stood on top of the world, if he could _see_ _me_ up there, he’d realize how far I’d gotten and come back and we could hang out just like we used to. We could train and joke around and get into trouble, all of that, like _before mum_ —“ He cuts himself off suddenly. “…I don’t know. I wanted him to see me and be…proud, I guess. That’d I’d held onto everything he taught me. That I made it. That I was doing okay. Even…even without him. I just…I wanted him to be proud.”

“Do you think he is?”

“…I don’t know.”

They fall into silence.

Hop stares into the water.

He never could’ve imagined Leon, the great and mighty _Champion_ , being scared of anything, much less of being forgotten. Leon with the flashy hair and outfits, the bombastic personality and larger than life presence.

Forgotten? That’s impossible.

Or perhaps that’s him mistaking the two again.

Leon may be the Champion, but the Champion is _not_ Leon.

The Champion is a shell. Leon is the meat and bones, the heart and flesh. The one who bleeds when he’s cut and cries when he’s hurt.

They’re different. They’ve always been.

To think Hop always felt those fears were reserved for him. _He_ was the forgettable one. The one who never had anything to show for his lineage or whatever people liked to call it. The one who could never fill the shoes left behind for him. The one who never met his father and who’s brother had taken off before he’d ever truly gotten a chance to know him properly.

To think, on two opposite sides of Galar, years and kilometers and mountains and rivers apart, they’d both stumbled upon that same chilling, vicious, and cruel thought.

Forgotten.

Alone and forgotten.

They really were related, weren’t they?

_before mum_

Before mum what? What did Leon mean by that? What did she do? What was he going to say? Did she…do something? Say something? To their father?

What exactly happened? And how was it enough to upset Leon as much as it clearly did?

Hop _would_ ask, but one glance at his brother tells him it’s not at all appropriate to ask. He doesn’t want to push when this isn’t a subject to be handled with anything except delicacy.

Hop wants to know the truth, but not at the expense of Leon’s feelings.

“I…I’m proud of you.”

Leon blinks, slowly turning his head over in Hop’s direction, his eyes wide.

“Pardon?”

“I-I’m proud. Of you.” Hop doesn’t look up from the water. “I…I don’t know everything I should know about you. I don’t know why you like caps so much, or why you’re always getting lost, or why you could ever think anyone could forget about you, but I know that you’re trying your best. That you don’t always know what the right thing to do is, that you mess up sometimes, and that you get tired as much as anyone else. I know that you’ve been patient with me, much more patient than other people have, and that you’re not mean at all. I used to think you were, but you’re not. I know that I don’t always say the right things either, that there’s a lot I don’t know, but I know that you’re Leon, and that Leon is good. And that Leon wants to be better and is trying to be better and that Leon is my brother and I’m proud that he’s doing what he can to…to try and _be_ my brother, even after how mean I’ve been to him. I’m proud of Leon and I think he should be proud of himself too, because Leon is good, even if he doesn’t think he is. A-And if _he_ were around to see you, I think he would be too.”

Hop isn’t quite sure what he’s saying. He’s just talking, saying what he can, because he’s not very good at this but he wants Leon to know that they’re the same, at least when it comes to this. They’re both trying and they’re both confused and they’re both scared of being forgotten and being alone but if they’re together, that doesn’t have to happen. If they’re together, they don’t have to be scared, because they have each other. And if they have each other, they can try their best to be better _together_ and never have to wonder if anyone’s thinking about them because they know that _they_ are.

If Hop has a Leon, the very least Hop can do is let Leon have a Hop.

Even if he isn’t much, he’s _something_ , isn’t he?

Hop jolts when a hand comes to rest itself upon his shoulder. He looks over to find Leon smiling at him, eyes glistening.

“I’m proud of you.” He says softly, his touch featherlight, as if he’s afraid to hurt him. “I think…I think _she’d_ be proud of you, too.”

Hop bites his lip to keep it from quivering.

“I hope so.”

They stare out into the lake, until Sonia calls for them to help pack up.

Hop feels lighter.

Not quite weightless, but lighter.

* * *

They get back to the stadium by late-evening.

“Hey Hopscotch?”

“Yeah?” He responds, kicking his shoes off. He’s tired, but not quite tired enough to hit the hay. Perhaps a quick shower and light read could do the trick?

“How about you put your gifts away?” Raihan suggests, holding the present bags out for him to take. “Opening them tomorrow sound like a plan?”

“Okay.” He doesn’t have a problem with that. He’d probably need to write thank you notes for everyone, a task best completed when fully refreshed. To do otherwise would be gauche.

Hop sets about doing as he’d told, missing the look exchanged between the two men watching him with bated breath.

He walks into his room and heads for his desk, setting the bags atop it. There isn’t much room left on it on account of all the books he’s left lying around. Perhaps he could transfer a few over to the mahogany bureau beside it, the large incubator sat upon it not taking up _that_ _much_ space—

Wait.

Since when did he have a mahogany bureau?

One with an _incubator_ casually perched on top of it?

“...oh my goodness.”

There, right next to his desk is a brand new mahogany bureau.

But most importantly—

An incubator.

And inside the incubator.

An egg.

An _egg_.

A _pokémon_ egg.

“ _Um_ …?” Hop helplessly flails his hands around, not knowing what to make of this sudden discovery.

As if in direct response to sensing his uncertainty, Galahad materializes out of thin air, observing the brand new addition to their room (none of them were under the impression that he and hop weren’t roommates anymore) suspiciously. He disappears abruptly, reappearing seconds later, the rest of his teammates barging into the room not long afterwards. Hop gathers he informed them of the find.

“It’s an egg.” He says rather dumbly, eyeing the settings on the incubator’s touch screen monitor. It seems very expensive and advanced. He refuses to touch it.

Arceus, what if he _breaks_ _it_ and ruins everything?

Dee peers over his shoulder, eyes bright and wide, Mordred serious beside her. Arthur seems strangely pleased, Lulu anxious, while Flo is giddy at the same time that he is confused. Galahad is poking at the tank, eyes narrowed, while Gwin and Gwen float around it curiously, trying to get a better look at the resident tucked safely inside, two Clefairy dolls settled in beside them. For company, perhaps? If Hop were an egg, he would appreciate that gesture.

“It’s an egg.” Hop murmurs again. He cannot tell what color the shell is from behind the tinted glass. White? Blue? A mixture of the two? Who knows. “There’s an _egg_.”

Mordred moves next to him, talon reaching to prod at the glass. Hop gently pushes it away. They really couldn’t risk any damage to the device, lest they bring about the egg's— _an egg heavens above an egg_ —demise.

Lulu gently prods him on the side to garner his attention, but when Hop looks over, he’s gesturing at the door.

Leon and Raihan are standing there, observing him hopefully.

“Surprises are the spice of life?” Raihan recites back to him nervously. “I know it’s your birthday and that surprises are sort of a _thing_ on birthdays, but we wanted to make it a really special one. Lee thought it was time you had a partner to call your own, so I pulled a few strings and…” He waves his hand in the general direction of the magnanimous gift. “Here we are. Any…any thoughts?

“It’s an egg.” Hop repeats, brain not working at full capacity yet. “You guys got me an _egg_?”

“Technically, Rai did.” Leon rubs the back of his neck. “All I did was suggest it.”

“He’s being modest.” Raihan elbows him. “It was a joint effort.”

“Why did you… _why_?”

“Because you’re responsible enough to take care of one.” Leon tells him without a shred of uncertainty. “You’ve proven yourself capable of considering the needs and well-being of all sorts of ‘mons. You understand when they’re not feeling one-hundred percent, when to reward them, when to enforce order. I think that more than qualifies you for the task of raising one from scratch.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Leon grins. “There’s nobody I’d trust more with one.”

Hop looks back at the incubator.

An egg.

For _him_ to take care of.

A pokémon of his own.

One _he’ll_ need to raise and teach and nurture and care for.

A partner for Hop to have at his side.

“…thank you.” Hop faces them again, a brilliant smile lighting up his features. “Thank you! I’ll take good care of them!”

“We know you will.” Leon replies fondly. They walk over to take a look at the unborn being resting in a cozy case of blankets and cotton. “They’re pretty cute, huh?”

“Very cute.” Hop agrees, a question suddenly striking him. “Am I allowed to ask what they’ll hatch into?”

“What happened to surprises are the spice of life?” Raihan pokes his cheek. “Isn’t it more exciting if you don’t know?”

“You don’t have a clue, do you?”

“Nope.”

“ _What_?” Leon whips around to face the gym leader. “You _don’t know_ what’s in there?”

“Nobody’s exactly handing out eggs willy nilly, Lee.” Raihan defends himself. “They’re strictly regulated. I had to cover a lot of ground before I found someone willing to hand one over and even then, they were super vague about the details. Which, by the way.” He’s addressing Hop now. “Uh, y’see, I sorta made a deal with our benefactor? The egg’s all yours as long as you set up an observations log for it. Y’know, jot down notes every day for what you see and don’t see. Experiment with what elicits reactions and whatnot? Look, I know it’s kinda crummy to give you _homework_ with what’s supposed to be a gift but—“

“I get to _observe_ it?” Hop practically squees. This was turning out to be one of the best days of his life! “I get to _research_ it? A-And act like a real professor? Like Sonia and Professor Magnolia? They want _my_ notes on it?”

“That’s the deal.”

“I’ll do it.” Hop snatches a spare journal from his desk and immediately labels it his _Egg Log_. “This is gonna be so _cool_. Professor Magnolia had eggs at her lab sometimes but I wasn’t allowed near them very often because she used to research them, too. She said they’re very delicate and sensitive to their environment. That there’s a correlation between where they’re cared for and the development of their social and interpersonal skills, even within the time that they’re first conceived. That certain species require certain levels of isolation and interaction. I never saw any hatch, but now I _can_!” Hop looks at Galahad. “I think you’ll need to be my assistant, since you spend the most time in here. Is that all right with you?”

Galahad offers the egg one last meaningful squint before nodding, vanishing and reappearing on Hop’s bed, where he promptly curls up for sleep.

“Thank you so much!” Hop repeats to his guardians, truly and genuinely ecstatic. “I love them!”

“So we did good?” Leon asks hopefully.

“Yeah!” Overcome with emotion, he throws his arms around both of them.

He does a poor job at it, considering Leon and Raihan aren’t petite in the least, but they save him the trouble by crouching down and returning the embrace, Raihan ruffling his hair while Leon rubs circles into his back.

“Thank you.” He sniffles, primarily out of joy. “Thank you so much.”

Leon wipes the tears from his eyes, his voice gentle.

“Happy birthday, Hop.”

* * *

Settling in for bed is difficult.

If Hop was hyped up on the day’s excitement before, he’s certainly not getting a wink of sleep now.

He can tell he’s bothering Galahad with how much he’s tossing and turning, gaze inevitably settling upon the newest addition of their household, so he ends up dragging his desk chair in front of the incubator and plopping down on it, knees drawn to his chest.

From what Raihan could tell him and based on Hop’s own observations, the egg is at the beginning stage of development. A long ways away from hatching. Very fortunate. It made for a good starting point in terms tracking consistent and accurate changes.

He’d start taking notes tomorrow, bright and early. Perhaps three times a day would be a good way to go about it? Morning, afternoon, and night. That way, the gaps between check-ins wouldn’t be too extensive, and he’d always be able to record whether different hours of the day could impact any characteristic of their growth cycle. Maybe weather, too? Yeah, he could make a chart with other factors like that.

It would be a challenge to patiently await for a hatch date, but the process would assuredly be an interesting one. Perhaps he could share his findings with Sonia and the Professor. Maybe it could help with their research.

Hop clutches the vault key, hung securely around his neck.

If he’s being honest, he wasn’t expecting his birthday to be anything special this year. Part of him had been resigned to the fact that Leon wouldn’t have remembered, and that if asked in the future about it, Hop would shrug it off and claim he’d forgotten it himself.

Certainly not the case.

Leon remembered. And they had a nice gathering and played games and Leon won him the vault key because fire is always the right call apparently. And then Leon told Raihan to get him an egg and Raihan did and now he has his own partner to look after.

So many wonderful things today. He hopes his next birthday can be like this. And the one after that and the one after that. And the same for Leon’s and Raihan’s too.

Maybe they could keep celebrating together.

Like a…

Like a family.

Just like he and his mum were.

Hop glances at his closet door.

He told himself he’d forget. That he wouldn’t consider it. That he should’ve thrown it away and never looked back.

But…things are different now aren’t they?

Hop wants the truth. There has to be one that makes sense. One that explains everything.

His feet touch the floor. As quietly as he can manage, he pads across the room, hand settling upon the closet’s handle.

Taking a deep breath, Hop opens it, crouches down and reaches in. His fingers brush against shoes and other miscellaneous items stored away until they finally bump against the familiar tape layered shoe box he’s done his darnedest not to think about.

It’s too late for that now.

Hop grabs it and plops down onto the floor, fingers brushing over his childishly scrawled frowny faces and written warnings. He can still recall taping the thing shut and deciding to close off that part of himself forever. He didn’t need anyone besides his mother. Didn’t want anyone besides her.

What did the absence of two strangers he’d never met matter?

Apparently a lot, if he kept the dang thing around for this long.

Hop tears off the tape, wincing at the sound it produces. Galahad, Gwin and Gwen thankfully do not stir.

After that’s done with, it leaves him with a box and a very flimsy lid.

His fingers are trembling.

There’s no reason to be afraid or nervous. It’s just a stupid box.

Just a stupid box.

“ _Just a stupid box_.” He mutters to himself, brushing the destroyed lid aside. In retrospect, it was kinda silly to dedicate such a large space to a singular item, but perhaps that was simply a way to remind himself of it.

Because no matter how much he told himself it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care, that he didn’t need anyone else, that was never really the case. He wanted more than just his mother’s cryptic hand-waving. More than what a telly screen could provide.

More than what a dated family memory could get across.

Hop picks up the frayed picture, straightening out the edges.

It’s the only remnant of his father he has. Something he found one day while his mother was cleaning out the house, folded up, creased and forgotten in one of the boxes designated for the rubbish bin.

It was the one thing he had to prove he even _had_ a father, before his mother told him he wasn’t anyone worth knowing and killed any of Hop’s hopes for a miraculous family reunion.

He remembers taking it back to his room, wondering who the man was that looked so much like his estranged elder brother. Who was the person holding a younger, grinning, nearly toothless Leon on the other side of the camera, gazing upon him with open adoration and affection.

It was simple enough to figure out. Who else would it be? It had to be his father. His and Leon’s resemblance, _Hop’s_ resemblance to them, was uncanny.

Why would his mother want to throw that away?

At the time, Hop hadn’t thought much on it.

He was angry and sad and took everything his mother said as law, because she was all he had. If she said his father wasn’t worth knowing, it had to be true. If she never wanted to speak about his brother, there had to be a reason for it. They hurt her and they deserved to be forgotten, even if it left Hop feeling hollow and empty inside. Even if it left him thinking that maybe they left because he wasn’t worth staying around. He’d been told that time and time again. It made sense.

He knows better now.

Because Leon _wasn’t_ a monster. _Isn’t_ a monster.

Leon is kind. Leon told him he wants to be his brother. Leon said he wants him around. Leon’s trying to get better. Just like Hop. _With_ Hop.

Leon said he’s proud of Hop.

And Leon said he loved their father. _Loves_ him. That they got along well. Their mother spoke along the same lines. That he was a good person. That he was kind to her.

Then _why_?

Why would his mother hide that? What reason was there to _ever_ hide that?

Was she…lying to him?

Lying about whether he was worthy?

A soft knock on his bedroom door startles him from his thoughts.

Who could that be?

Hop gets to his feet, setting the picture beside the incubator to deal with later.

Cracking the door open, Hop blinks at the sight of Leon, hair tied back, face slightly smudged with…is that _paint_?

“Hey.” He whispers. “Can I come in?”

“Sure?” Hop opens the door fully. His brother walks in, holding something hidden beneath a white cloth, an orange ribbon curled around the bundle. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” Leon shifts from foot to foot, expression nervous. “There’s something else I wanted to give you.” He holds the bundle out.

Hop takes it from him carefully, confused by its odd shape.

“It’s…well, I’m not sure if it counts as a birthday present if it was already yours to begin with.” Leon raises a hand to fiddle with his cap, realizes he doesn’t have one on, and allows it to fall at his side again. “I wanted to get it done in time for today, but I sorta procrastinated a little and got frustrated when it wasn’t coming out the way I wanted. It’s done now though. Finished it up a few minutes ago. Artie helped me dry it.”

“This is another present?”

“I don’t know.” Leon replies anxiously. “If you want it to be, it is. If you don’t, think of it as a repair job.”

Repair job?

Confused, Hop pulls at the ribbon. It falls to the floor, along with the white sheet no longer supported by it.

What he’s presented with leaves him nearly speechless.

“A Ho-Oh…” Hop breathes, not believing his eyes.

A full-fledged Ho-Oh.

Not the monstrosity he created for his mother. An honest and elegant representation. A near replica of the majestic creature itself, as if it’s been shrunk down to size and offered onto him.

Vibrant, radiant rainbow feathers painted with precision and skill, not a single uneven clump or bubble to be seen, shaded to play well with the lighting in any room. Beautifully arched wings are poised as if they are about to take flight and soar. The golden beak is carved into a perfect curve, talons sharply clawed, strong and sturdy, perched upon a wooden stand painted and decorated to resemble a temple roof.

“I had to get more materials for it, but I used any pieces I could salvage from the one Flo chewed up.” Leon tells him bashfully. “Looked up a bunch of references to make sure the anatomy and colors were right. It was my first time doing anything like this, so it’s not great. It’s not a vault or an egg or your very own Ponyta or anything, but I tried.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you— _Why_?” Hop asks, his throat tightening. “I-I said it was _rubbish_.”

“It didn’t seem that way to me.” Leon tilts his head. “It looked like it was important to you. And it looked like you were sad about it so I…thought that I could fix it for you?” He sighs, shoulders slumping. “Sorry. I know it’s not any good. I can throw it out if you want—“

“ _No_!” Hop snatches it away when Leon tries to reach for it. “No way! It’s _mine_!”

“But you said—“

“This one isn’t rubbish.” Hop clutches it against his chest protectively. “It’s not rubbish at all. It’s way better than the one I made.”

“Really? I thought yours was a lot cuter.”

“Are you in need of glasses by any chance?”

“I have twenty-twenty vision, for your information.” Leon huffs, before his expression turns uncertain. “So…you like it? Doesn’t have to go in the rubbish bin?”

“N-No. I-I like it a lot.” Hop admires it again, lips quirking into a shy smile. Once, he would’ve been annoyed by Leon’s inherent talent for being talented. Now, he can’t help but think of it as a welcome quirk, especially in this case. “Thank you, Leon. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” His brother returns the happy look. “Think it deserves a place on your esteemed shelf?”

“I think so.”

New and improved Ho-Oh gets to keep their special place at the center, surrounded on all sides by books and other figurines.

Both brothers nod contentedly at the _rightness_ of it.

“We’d better get to bed.” Leon winces at the time displayed on Hop’s alarm clock. “I was honestly expecting you to be asleep by now.”

“I couldn’t.” Hop admits, gesturing towards the incubator. “I kept thinking about them.”

“Have any specific hopes?” Leon inquires, walking over to it. He touches the glass with his fingertips. “Any ‘mon you might like?”

“Not really.” Hop steps beside him. “Whatever they are, I’ll take care good care of them no matter what.”

“Sounds about right.” Leon chuckles, gaze falling upon the picture beside the tank.

Hop doesn’t react in time to try and hide it before his brother’s already picking it up, examining it placidly.

“Where did you get this?” He asks, expression giving nothing away.

Hop hesitates.

Saying he had it stored away in a shoebox in his closet for years because he hated his brother and father didn’t sound very pleasant. Neither did saying it was nearly tossed into a rubbish bin by his mother, the intent of her actions unclear and debatable at best.

“I’ve…had it. For a while.” He settles on. “I kept it with me because…that’s all I really had of him. And of you when you weren’t champion.”

It’s not a lie. Perhaps Hop didn’t have any memories to go along with the image, but it was _something_. Something of his absent father and something of the vaguest memories of the Leon that still visited home. The one he can remember holding his hand and telling him to jump upon the stone slabs leading from their home down the dirt road to Wedgehurst, whistling an indistinguishable tune.

“It’s funny.” Leon huffs out a quiet laugh. “I spent all that time with him and don’t have any photos to prove it.”

“Not one?”

“Not one. He’s never been a picture taking guy. I’m surprised this one even exists.” Leon holds it out to him. “Keep it. It’s a special edition, y’know.”

Hop slowly takes it from him.

He bites his lip, glancing between the photo and his brother.

Ultimately, he offers it back.

“You can keep it.” Hop says, meeting his gaze. “I think it’s better off with you.”

“I can’t take that.” Leon frowns. “It’s yours. It’s all you have left of him.”

That’s true but…

“It’s a gift.” Hop says with a smile. “If you want it to be, it is. If you don’t, think of it as a repair job.”

Leon’s lips quirk upward as his own words are repeated back at him.

“A repair job? For what?”

“For everything.” Hop takes one of Leon’s hand and places the picture upon it. It only makes sense. It’s only fair. Leon is the one with fond memories of their father. Hop could hold onto it and wonder and lament, but his brother was the one who deserved proof of that link to him. “It’s a bandaid until we go in for surgery.”

“I thought we were already in the middle of it.”

“No way. I still owe you a million birthday presents. Y’know, ‘cause you owe me just as much. Minus two now, I guess. See? Already making progress.”

“Only nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety-eight to go.” Leon chuckles, accepting the gift graciously. “…Thank you, Hop. I appreciate it. It…It means a lot.”

“You’re welcome.” Hop replies. He means it.

For how ever many birthdays they’re allowed to celebrate together within their lifetime, they’ll always be making up for lost time. They’ll probably always regret what they’ve missed.

But they can also create new memories. Better ones.

Ones where they’re together, despite how long it’s taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please accept my limited art skills. i thought it was too cute a scene to not try my hand at drawing 🙏🙏🙏


	18. unspoken words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the truth seeks hop, for better and for worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: for severe self-worth issues on the part of hop's mother

“Absol.”

“Pidgey.”

“Zorua.”

“Cramorant.”

“Darkrai.”

“Taillow.”

“Not to knock your guesses, but they’re kinda borin’.” Marnie comments, sparing him an unimpressed look. “Be more creative. You want a flyin’ type that bad?”

“It’s not that I want a flying type specifically.” Hop pouts, shifting Koko in his arms. She squeaks and cuddles closer to him. “I just think it’d be nice if I could have a ‘mon that can fly. Leon has Arthur and Raihan has Flo. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to bum rides from them all the time.”

“True, but that would require you train ‘em to the point where they can evolve.” Marnie notes, pulling him to the side of the pavement when a cyclist speeds by. “Would you be willin’ to do that?”

That’s...a very good point actually.

Should Hop get any of those Pokémon, wouldn’t they have to get strong enough to the point where they can feasibly evolve? He’s sure Leon and Raihan could help him out with it, but that would require battling them and Hop’s not sure how he feels about his partner getting brutalized on the battlefield by the two toughest trainers in all of Galar and their lot of bloodthirsty warriors. He _could_ go out into the wild, search for weaker Pokémon, though even that leaves him with a sour taste in his mouth.

Something about seeking out weaker opponents for a selfish reason like wanting to fly seems callous.

“I guess not.” He sighs sadly, rubbing his cheek against Koko’s to make himself feel better. She returns the gesture equally as affectionately. “I’m fine with anything. I don’t _need_ to fly. Galar’s got trains and taxis for a reason.”

“Don’t give up hope, mate.” Marnie pats him on the back as consolation. “Y’could end up with a Yveltal. That’d be ace.”

“I don’t see how you can talk. You’re dead set on a dark type.”

“Wonder why.”

“Don’t be cheeky!”

“Okay, mister flyin’ master.”

“I don’t have a preference! Flo isn’t even a flying type!”

“Wait a sec!” Marnie gasps suddenly. “I know what your egg’ll be!”

“And how would you know that?”

“It’s obvious.” She slaps her forehead, eyes widening comically. “The truth’s been in front of us this whole time. Wanna hear it? Wanna hear my thoughts?”

“I-I guess…?”

Marnie stops walking and faces him head on, eyes piercing into his own, demeanor completely serious.

“You ready?”

“I think.” He responds, anxious.

Could she really be onto something? Could she really and truly know who Hop’s new friend will be? It wouldn’t be a surprise. Marnie's wisened to a lot of things Hop can barely comprehend. Also being a seer in her free time wouldn’t be _that_ off base.

Marnie nods, squaring her shoulders.

Hop braces himself for the revelation of a lifetime.

“ _Hoppip_.” She utters, countenance deadpan.

Hop’s wavering, apprehensive eyes flatten.

Even _Koko_ looks unimpressed.

“Marnie, I’m sorry. I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

“Why? Because I only speak truth?”

“Because you’re being _silly_.”

“Truth-speakers get called that a lot. I’m not surprised.”

“ _Marnie_."

“Look, Hop, yer mad but that’s a very educated assumption.” She shrugs her shoulders, as if she pities his skepticism. “Yer wantin’ a flyin’ type? The _name_?” She presses both her index fingers together. “I don’t know about you, but I’m seein’ a scientific connection.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“It’s _science_.”

“I don’t even _know you_ anymore.”

“You can’t hide from the truth forever!”

They break off at their meet up point after Marnie spouts out a few more of her conspiracy theories. Hop doesn’t think any of them are right at all, but he lets her get them out of her system, lest she call him at some odd hour of the night because she can’t stand for him to not know about her strange viewpoints.

Hop doesn’t mind it at all though. Marnie’s an oddball, but he wouldn’t have her any other way.

The journey back to the stadium is uneventful in a painfully dull way. Not even the general store has anything of interest on display, though that’s a definite plus for his account. There are only so many toys he can buy off the cuff before it becomes an excessive compulsion.

Hop takes the usual turn off main street towards the drawbridge. He’s wondering if there’s any leftover biscuits to have as an afternoon snack while he writes down his egg observations when he nearly bumps into someone exiting the stadium at the same time he is entering.

“Whoa!” He squeaks, stumbling back as two hands settle themselves upon his shoulders. “I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and—!”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Says a familiar voice. “I wasn’t looking where I was going myself.”

Hop looks up, only to be met with Chairman Rose’s familiar kindly face.

“Mr. Chairman.” Hop steps away, adjusting his bag across his back. “Hello.”

Talk about a surprise. For all the time he’s been living at the stadium, the chairman has never stopped by. A bit odd now that he thinks about it. Isn’t he Leon’s boss? Wouldn’t checking up on the champion of all people every once in a while be necessary, especially in Leon’s case? Of course, there’s always the possibility Leon’s met with him while he was at school or spoke with him over the phone when he wasn’t around to hear.

Still, wouldn’t Hop have heard a mention of it? Leon and Raihan talk work sometimes. From what he can recall, the chairman’s never come up.

“Hello Hop.” Chairman Rose replies good-naturedly. “It’s a pleasure to see you. Coming back from school?”

“Yes sir. We were just let out.” Hop responds, slightly discomfited.

It isn’t that he finds Chairman Rose especially scary or menacing. He’s been treated with nothing but respect and kindness during all of their interactions.

It’s mainly how now that he understands Rose is not only part of the organization that has given Leon and the rest of his friends so much grief, but the leading force at the head of it, there’s something odd about sharing pleasantries with him. Hop doesn’t want to begrudge him by default. He hasn’t been treated badly by him thus far.

But he can’t just forget about Spikemuth. About Piers and Marnie. About Nessa.

About _Leon_.

“It _is_ about that time. My own children should be heading home right about now.” Rose hums. “Perhaps I’ll stop by the store to buy a few treats, though I doubt my wife will appreciate them. Coffee and all those horrid, sugarless crimes against humanity are her favorites.”

“I can relate.” Hop offers politely. “My mother liked bitter things.”

“Ah, yes, you told me as much.” He laughs. “A coffee drinker, if I recall correctly?”

“That’s right.”

“Nothing for it but to grin and accept such opinions, don’t you agree?”

“I…suppose so.”

The chairman observes him for a few moments.

“…you seem different than when we last spoke.”

Hop tenses.

Does he know? Does he know that Hop knows about the league being icky? Does he know that he and Marnie are planning a coup for the day she decides she’s strong enough to take Galar back from them?

“D-Do I?”

“Yes, you do.” Rose narrows his uncharacteristically shrewd hazel eyes. “In fact, I’d say you look…”

Hop prepares himself for the worst. He can take it! He can take anything! If it’s for Leon and Raihan and _everyone_ , he’ll fight back with all his might! Chairman or not, he won’t back down!

“…happier.”

What?

“What.” Hop blurts out, visibly deflating.

The chairman smiles wide.

“ _Much_ happier! The bags under your eyes are less pronounced. There’s a skip to your step. I see you’ve been making peace with everything you’ve been through.” His countenance turns sympathetic. “I know I’ve said this already, but often times our emotions are difficult to keep in check, especially when grief wracks us so violently. It’s a relief to know you’re doing well, Hop. Truly. Happiness suits you better than hopelessness ever could.” He sets a hand on his shoulder. “Things will continue to get better, son. Believe me. The world can be incredibly cruel and merciless, but that is why we must reach out to those closest to us. It’s only then that we can find the strength to rise again. I can only assume you and Leon have taken that sentiment to heart. Hold onto one another. Keep each other close. At the end of all, those bonds are all we leave this Earth cherishing.”

“…yes, Mr. Chairman.” Hop replies quietly. “Thank you for your concern. Leon and I…we’re doing much better. We’re relying on each other. It’s made a big difference.”

“Nothing delights me more than to hear that.” His expression becomes thoughtful. “Although, I suppose for business, that sort of attitude has its pitfalls. I can’t say I’m looking forward to the conversations I am to head after this. Archibald will not be pleased. He’s a whiner, that one. Hopefully this will give rise for his departure, although dealing with that will be another headache in and of itself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing you should concern yourself over.” Rose pats him twice on the shoulder. “I’m pleased to understand the reason for Leon’s shift in attitude. I think it suits him quite well. A true man of his people. I have high hopes. I gather you are the reason for that change.”

“I’m sorry sir, but I’m not following…”

“Ah, don’t listen to this old man.” Chairman Rose chuckles. “I’m running my mouth. My wife says it’s a problem. I say it’s a tool for building bridges. What do you think?”

Hop’s clueless as to what the chairman means by his verbal onslaught, but he understands that last bit enough to offer up a somewhat comprehensible answer.

“I think…I think communication is the key to connecting to others.” He looks the chairman right in the eye. “I think without it, we wouldn’t be able to understand one another. That given the opportunity, even those who are the most tight-lipped can offer up their feelings, as long as they’re allowed the correct circumstances for which to say them in. I think we _can_ build bridges. That if anyone claims that it’s difficult, that’s only because they’re not listening. There’s an easy fix for that, y’know. Listening is an easy enough skill to pick up once we learn how and when to keep our mouths shut.”

“Dear heavens! You’ve certainly fortified that backbone of yours.” The chairman laughs heartily. “My, my. I feel you can give your own brother a run for his money. Say, you wouldn’t be interested in heading back to Wyndon with me? I could use a well-spoken and opinionated gentleman like yourself to help with those tossers I call my colleagues.”

Hop’s eyes widen.

“E-Excuse me?”

The chairman grins cheekily.

“It’s an affectionate term. I’m sure you understand.” He winks. Hop can only nod dumbly. “Well, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome here. The dragon of Hammerlocke is quite vicious. I have a feeling if he caught me speaking to you, a few choice words are the last thing I’d have to worry about.” He snickers. “I’ll be off, then. Keep your chin up, son. You’ve nothing to fear with those two beside you.”

With one last pat to his back, the chairman saunters off, whistling a jolly tune. Hop is left to watch his retreating form, confused as to what on _Earth_ any of that was supposed to mean.

Maybe he _should_ be afraid of the chairman. The ability to confound anyone all in the span of a single conversation seems a sufficiently terrifying quirk to be cautious of going forward.

Or maybe Hop should take a page from his book and learn to be personable enough to draw anyone in yet strong enough to make his demands heard.

 _Or_ he could shrug it all off and pretend it didn’t happen.

Hm. Tempting, but not his style.

Overthinking every word of their conversation for a few hours it is.

Hop heads inside, planning on boarding the elevator to get right into checking in on his egg, when the sight of Camilla and Sebastian crouching by the door that leads into their offices catches his attention. It’s odd behavior in general, especially from them. Usually they’re a lot less conspicuous about listening in on their boss’s conversations.

“What are you doing?” He asks, walking up to them, blinking as they knock their heads together, collapsing onto the floor.

“A little warning next time, little man?” Camilla groans. “You scared the life out of me.”

“Sorry.” Hop says apologetically. “I didn’t meant to. Just wanted to know what you’re up to.”

“Not eavesdropping.” Sebastian blurts out, rubbing his forehead. “Totally not eavesdropping on Leader Raihan and the Champion’s conversation. Nothing like that.”

Camilla gapes.

“Don’t _tell_ _him_ , Sebi!”

“I can’t handle the pressure! Have you see his eyes? Way too intense!”

“You’re pathetic!”

“And you’re being mean!”

“That’s a lot better than being loose lipped!”

“Oh, because _you’ve_ never run your mouth about my personal business before?”

“Your personal business is you doing your laundry! Super dull and uninteresting!”

“I’ll have you know—!”

Their argument is cut short by the door abruptly opening.

Camilla and Sebastian blanch, slowly tuning their heads to regard a very unimpressed Raihan.

“I clearly remember asking you both to get to work on those drills.” He says severely, eyebrow raised, general disposition disapproving. “I _know_ neither of you have been sitting here, fooling around this entire time, don’t I?”

The two trainers cling to one another, unable to even stammer out a reply.

Hop takes pity on them.

“I dropped something.” He says, gathering Raihan’s attention. “They were helping me look for it. I’ve got it now though.” He smiles at the duo. “Sorry for holding you two up. I’ll let you get back to work.”

Camilla and Sebastian offer him thankful expressions before speeding off into the stadium, Sebastian nearly tripping over himself. Hop is under no impression they won’t be getting an earful for this later. At the very least, he’s spared them from the inevitable for a couple of hours.

“Did you just get back?” Raihan asks after a moment, leaning against the door frame.

“A few minutes ago, yes.” Hop confirms. “Did we interrupt something? Are you having an important meeting?”

“Strategy session is a better term for it.”

“For battling?”

“A little more complicated than that.” Raihan yawns, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. “Been at it since you left. Didn’t even notice the time.”

“Will you be finished soon?”

“Leon willing.” Raihan sighs, though it’s more fond than anything else. “Once he’s on a roll, there’s no stopping him. Figure I may as well let whatever he’s thinkin’ run its course and be there when he finally passes out from exhaustion.”

“Shouldn’t we stop that from happening in the first place?”

Raihan gives him a look. He need not say another word.

“I’ll be upstairs in that case.” Hop takes a few steps back. “Gotta check in on the peanut.”

“Keep us updated. They’ll be bursting out of there in no time.”

“I know! I can’t wait!” He grins and bounds off towards the elevator, impatiently tapping his foot the whole way up. When he bursts through the door, Lulu isn’t there to greet him, meaning he must be on rotation.

Despite Hop designating Galahad as his assistant, the others had taken it upon themselves to join him on watch. A good idea on their part. As much as Hop trusts the Dragapult with his scientific duties, he can’t imagine how stressful it must be for a single father(?) of two to keep an eye on his children(?) plus the new addition.

“I’m back.” He announces, tossing his bag onto the desk. Lulu greets him with a cheerful wave, standing stalwart at the incubator’s side. On his bed lies Arthur, half dozing while half keeping a trained eye on the egg. Of the entire group, he was by far the most protective of it, slinking around the hallway with sharp eyes during regular intervals despite the relative safety of their living quarters. Whether it came from his own experience as a hatchling birthed into a team of very powerful pokémon who didn’t think much of him, or his leadership role driving him to look after his own, Hop isn’t sure. He appreciates the effort nonetheless.

If there’s anybody that can be relied on to look after and protect their new family member, it’s Arthur.

“Any signs, Gala?” Hop asks, opening up his notebook to mark down another entry.

Galahad shakes his head from his perch on the desk chair, Gwin and Gwen doodling on the margins of the notepad Hop provided for him.

Let it not be said that pokémon are dull creatures. He and Hop developed a workable system of symbols to dictate changes with relative ease, each one representing a certain behavior typically associated with egg development. Any outliers were represented with asterisks, which Galahad would then mime out to the best of his ability. Not a perfect operation by any means, but it worked well enough for their makeshift lab.

“It’s still super early.” Hop says, jotting down Galahad’s observations along with a few of his own. Twitching wouldn’t be a possibility until further down the road, under the assumption that this egg follows the same general principles as most of its kind. Nothing could be treated as concrete fact however, given the mysterious origins of this particular one.

For all he knows, there really is a Yveltal in there, size notwithstanding. Eggs are really only cradles of potential energy, after all. The form they take after hatching is still a gravely confusing, under-researched, and long debated phenomenon.

Hop doesn’t blame anyone for the confusion or unwillingness to look further into it. Regardless, he finds it to be an infinitely interesting topic, even if a lot of the inner workings are a complex mess of theories he doesn’t fully understand.

“Have any of you tried talking to them?” He inquires out of curiosity. Galahad points to Gwin and Gwen. Lulu points to a flustered Arthur avoiding eye contact. It makes him smile. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” He reassures the big tough Charizard. “It’s actually really good for them, I think. There’s nothing one hundred percent about it, but I like to imagine they can hear us.”

Hop gazes at the egg, fingers twitching.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he disengages the incubator releases via the touch screen. Carefully, he detaches the lid, setting it to the side.

He probably shouldn’t be doing this without express supervision, but it’s _his_ egg. If there’s ever a time to learn how to handle it, now would be good. He’s read enough supplemental care materials to have the general theory down.

Putting it into practice though?

More than a little nerve wracking.

“B-Blanket, Gala.”

Galahad vanishes and reappears within seconds, holding a soft, pale pink quilt in his hands. Hop thanks him, adjusts it in his arms, and for the first time, picks up his ward.

Making sure the quilt is properly wrapped around them, he sits upon his bed. Arthur immediately hovers over his shoulder. Galahad appears over the other, Gwin and Gwen joining him. Lulu steps in front of him, eyes soft and curious.

Hop gently lays a hand on the light blue shell, surprised by the faint pulses of warmth he feels beneath his fingertips. The cadence is no different from a beating heart.

“They’re alive.” He whispers.

It’s a silly thing to say. Of course they’re alive. Bundle of energy or not. Shapeless and lacking any distinctive characteristics, developing and growing and existing within their small, oval cradle.

All they are is a handful of light and yet, they’re _alive_.

“Are you awake?” Hop questions, hugging them close to his chest. “It’s okay if you aren’t. You can keep sleeping. If you are, good afternoon. It’s very nice to see you again. I hope you’re well. Today, you have a few visitors. Why don’t I properly introduce you to them? See in front of me? That’s Lulu. He’s the nicest Duraludon ever. Super fast, too. I hope you don’t give him too much grief. He deals with enough of our nonsense as it is.”

Lulu lightly taps their shell, eyes lighting up, a soft croon escaping him. Hop can already tell he’ll be fretting over them nonstop the minute they finally hatch.

“Next, we have Galahad, my assistant professor.” Hop points to the Dragapult eyeing the egg suspiciously. “He’s helping me take notes on you, with his babies Gwin and Gwen. He’s very smart and dedicated and likes watching Galar Rangers 24 with me. Maybe when you’re finally ready to say hello, we can all watch it together.”

Galahad runs his red fingertips over them, eyes squinting further. Hop doesn’t really understand what that look means, but he feels like it has more to do with feeling threatened over his claim on the bed than any actual ill-intent.

“And our last visitor is someone who’s _very_ excited to meet you.” Hop shifts the egg in his hands to better face the anxious fire dragon. “This is Arthur. He’s in charge of everyone, even Leon and Raihan. Toughest Charizard in the whole world, y’know. Everyone loves him and looks up to him. I…I know that sounds a little scary.” He meets Arthur’s gaze with a smile. “But you don’t have to be scared. He’s not gonna hurt you. He’s gonna take care of you, and help teach you whatever I can’t. You won’t ever have to be scared, ‘cause he and everyone else are going to be here to protect you.”

Arthur cranes his neck downward as Hop holds the bundle up towards him. With the most gentle of touches, he nuzzles the egg, eyes fluttering shut, an expression not unlike that of a pleased Charmander settling itself across his features.Hop wonders if it’s that same look he had whenever he rested himself upon his mother’s tummy, waiting for Leon to be born so they could finally be partners and set out to take the world by storm.

He hopes they can get along. Whoever it is that’s sleeping up a storm in his—

A jolt cuts off his train of thought.

Hop stares at the egg, then at Arthur, who looks equally as shocked, then back at the egg.

That can’t have happened. It’s way too early for movement! He must have jostled them. Must have shook them or imagined it or—

Another shake.

“Look at them.” Hop whispers. “Galahad. _Notes_.”

Instantly, his assistant is back at the desk, grabbing his pen and scribbling down his symbols.

“D-D’you think talking helped?” He asks, hands shaking. Lulu fervently nods his head. “Sh-Should I keep talking?”

Arthur prods him on the shoulder, points to his mouth, then at Hop, and repeats the motion.

“T-Talk about _me_? O-Oh. Okay.” Hop settles the egg on his lap. “H-Hello little peanut. I’m Hop. I think I’ve already told you that, but just in case you forgot, th-that's me. Hop. I-I’m very happy to have you with me. I’ve never had a pokémon of my own. I used to be scared of them. I used to…not like them very much. I’m trying to fix that though, because pokémon are really amazing. They’re strong and can battle and look cool, but there’s more to them than that. They’re also kind and considerate. Smart and wise. They can see you for what you truly are, and help you realize what it is you’re missing. I…” He falters. “I don’t know if I can be a very good partner for you. I’m not very sure of myself at all but…I’ll try my best. For the both of us. So when you finally hatch, I can be someone you can be proud to call a friend. Someone you can rely on. Someone who’ll never hurt you or leave you or make you feel like you aren’t good enough. I’ll be my best, so I can help you be your best, too.” He hugs them closer again, resting his cheek upon them. “I promise.”

There’s nothing.

Hop is ready to pass off the previous experience as a trick of the light, his hopes getting the best of him.

Then.

Another wiggle.

Faint and barely much of anything, but a wiggle nonetheless.

“Guess that means you’ll hold me to it.” He murmurs in response.

There isn’t any more movement.

Hop doesn’t think it’s necessary.

The warmth tingling his fingertips is answer enough.

* * *

Leon and Raihan still aren’t back when dinner time finally rolls around, so Hop takes it upon himself to get everyone fed, including himself. He wraps two plates in plastic wrap for when they finally decide whatever it is they’re strategizing about can wait until tomorrow, and heads onto the terrace to allow the ‘mons their last bit of playtime before the arduous task of wrangling them inside again for bed becomes necessary.

 _the sunset’s so nice_ , Hop thinks, admiring the view of Arthur and Flo zipping through the sky, Galahad popping in out of nowhere to scare the life out of the latter every so often. He’s almost tempted to take a picture. He decides against it. He can never quite capture the essence of a scene as well as it comes across when he’s witnessing it happen in person. Perhaps if he were as talented as Raihan is at taking pictures, he’d be better at it.

For now, he’s content with storing them away in his own memories, serving as his own little vault of treasures nobody besides him can access.

He wonders what his mother would think of them. Wonders what she might have to say about them. Would she enjoy them? Would she praise him? Would she be happy or relieved?

What would she think of the Hop of right now?

A distant squawk catches his attention.

He raises his head, lips quirking into a smile at the distant, familiar form of his delivery bird, swooping in at a respectable distance from the dragons currently engaged in an intense game of follow the leader.

“Good evening.” Hop says as the Corvisquire lands a few inches away from him, shaking off their wings with a tired huff. “You don’t usually stop by this late.”

The Corvisquire glares, taking a pecking position. Hop wisely keeps his distance.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean that as an insult. Just an observation.” He notes the letter hanging from their neck. “Thank you for going through the trouble. I appreciate it.”

He reaches out, detaching it.

Without provocation, the Corvisquire clamps their beak onto the envelope. Hop pauses, observing the way in which he's gripping it, scarlet eyes set into an unsettling glare.

“…is something wrong?” He asks, not sure what to make of the unexpected behavior. He tries tugging on the letter again. Still, the Pokémon doesn’t budge, beak unmoving, gaze strangely desperate. “Do you…not want me to have this?”

He doesn’t receive a response, not that he expects one. Whatever it is the bird wants, Hop isn’t clear on what exactly it is.

So he waits, holding the mon’s stare, until his grip loosens bit by bit, beak slowly releasing the now slightly wrinkled envelope.

“Thank you.” Hop tells him, confused by his resistance. This isn't normally an issue. Maybe he’s feeling combative today? Mordred often experiences moods like that, where the only way to release that incessant fighting spirit boiling within her is a good mock battle, preferably against Arthur.

Deciding it’s likely nothing to think especially hard about, Hop sets about his usual routine, tearing the seal and pulling out the writing he’s been patiently awaiting since the previous delivery.

_to my sweet prince,_

_hello hop_

_how are you_

_well i hope_

_do you recall those stories mummy used to read before bedtime?_

_the ones with kings and queens? where the princess would get captured and a heroic knight would gallop in on his rapidash to save her from a scary monster? he’d bring her home and they’d fall in love and get married and the kingdom would celebrate and everyone would live happily ever after._

_you loved those stories. would get so excited over them. would always tell me how, if mummy was ever captured, you’d do anything you could to save her. you’d bring her back, because her kingdom needed her._

_it always made me happy. mummy would never let herself be captured by a scary monster, but she felt safe knowing that if she ever was, her sweet and brave hero prince would be ready to bring her back home._

_i never fully agreed with all of their messages, but i think they were good stories. they made you smile, and that was always reason enough to read them to you, even if they only made it more difficult to get you to settle down and go to sleep._

_as nice as they were, i think we both know that they’re drenched in an optimism and wonder that isn’t often the case for real life, if at all._

_if they were true, i’d still be with you._

_a prince still needs his mummy, no matter how strong he is._

_or maybe it’s the other way around._

_hop, i’m tired, so i won’t delay this further. it’s quite late and i find writing is becoming difficult for me lately. i want to get this down before i second guess myself and leave you with nothing._

_i know i’ve harped on and on about him, gushed about how wonderful your father was and how much i loved him. how much i adored him. how much he made me feel like a person who actually had a place on this planet. most of that is still true._

_i still adore him._

_i miss him. i always have._

_but he was never perfect. neither was i. i don’t think either of us were ready to be parents, no matter how much i told myself and him otherwise._

_your father was kind and caring and loving in many ways, but that never really played a part in whether he was a competent father. not to me, at least._

_i told you we settled in galar and had leon and decided we would lead a peaceful life in the countryside._

_that isn’t what happened at all._

_your father was a wanderer by nature. always looking for the next horizon, the next region, the next adventure to have. staying in one place was never something he was comfortable with, and it was something i should have known better._

_around the time leon turned a year old, he told me he needed to go. was desperate for it. had this terrified look in his eye. he needed to leave. needed to see new sights. told me not to worry. that he’d be back. he promised._

_i wasn’t sure what to think. i was very young and inexperienced and scared. i tried to reason with him, to explain why being left alone with a newborn while he went off on another escapade by himself wasn’t a good idea, but he wouldn’t have it._

_i can’t explain what it was, hop. to this day, i still don’t understand it. for me, traveling was a way to find whatever it was i was missing in life. away from galar and away from the parents who never cared for me._

_i wanted to be happy._

_and i found that happiness. in him. in leon. in my own family. i had a place where i belonged. a place with people to care for and people who cared for me in turn._

_i thought it was the same for him. i thought we were on the same page._

_maybe i was being too narrow-minded._

_in the end, i let him go. i didn’t want to, but i told him it was all right. that i’d be waiting for him when he came back. told him to take care and come back alive, because leon needed him. i thought if he got whatever was bothering him out of his system, he would realize what was really important and come back and never try to leave his wife and son for the sake of his travels ever again._

_i don’t know what i was thinking. i knew your father like the back of my hand. inside and out._

_i knew that wouldn’t be the end of it._

_when he came back, months later, he seemed remorseful. it seemed as if he’d done exactly as i’d hoped. reflected on his actions and come to realize that his family was what truly mattered. leon was ecstatic. i was almost afraid he wouldn’t recognize his father, but underestimating their bond was something i’ve always done._

_he did and your father coddled him all that he could and i thought everything would be fine. we were together again. that had to be enough._

_it wasn’t._

_a few months later, that same, infuriating desperation hit him again._

_i was such an idiot._

_i let him go. i let him leave. again and again. always hoping that he’d take a hint and realize that it wasn’t okay, no matter how many times i told him it was._

_he kept leaving and coming back, until it was an established routine. i could almost mark it down on the calendar to the very date. he’d come back and act as if everything was jolly and dandy, act as if we were all that mattered to him, shower us in affection and gifts and tell us we were all that he could ever need or want, and then, a few months later, tell me to my face that he needed to go without a trace of shame._

_how could he do that to me? to us?_

_how could he do that to his son?_

_to our sweet litleo?_

_leon who worshipped the ground he walked on. leon who was never impatient or bothered by the fact that his father would disappear from time to time. he never begrudged him for it. not once. he was only ever grateful. whenever your father did show his face, he would light up like the sun. like a star. like your father was everything that could ever matter to him. his absences, his failure to call or send a postcard or do anything to contact him aside, he was everything to leon._

_they got along so well. the minute your father appeared they’d be off training or playing games or getting into trouble. they’d come back a mess, late at night with those silly grins on their faces, mud caked onto their clothing, skin and hair, ready to do it all again the very next day._

_leon was always happiest with your father. they shared a bond any mother would long for her husband and son to share._

_i can’t deny it made me happy, during the moments i allowed myself to think that this would be the time. that this would be the occasion where your father would look into leon’s beautiful twinkling eyes and decide he could never bear to disappoint him. couldn’t risk that ever happening._

_it was never the time, not that leon could have ever been disappointed by him._

_i think the only person he was ever disappointed in was me._

_i’m sure i don’t have to explain that all his leaving and my worrying took a toll on our marriage. we started arguing far more than we ever had before. the periods where he would return home turned into ticking time bombs, where we would both pretend nothing was wrong, at least until leon wasn’t around to hear us say terrible, terrible things about one another. i made sure to never bring any of those sentiments up around him._

_i suppose it was only a matter of time before he stumbled upon us screaming at each other._

_it was shortly after you were born that something changed for good._

_your father and i had both been in higher spirits. that’s always been your special power, hop._

_just seeing your cute little face was enough for us to place our differences aside._

_for a time, i’d been foolish enough to think it could fix everything._

_it wasn’t, but i’ve always been something of an idiot._

_in any case, we were relatively fine._

_until he brought up the gym challenge._

_now, i’ve never had anything against battling. i didn’t enjoy it, but i wasn’t completely opposed to the idea._

_i was opposed to leon heading off on his own at such a young age._

_naturally, your father thought differently._

_he argued he taught leon everything he could ever need to know to camp out in the wilderness. to survive. that he was ready for it. that he had done the same thing at the same age and came out stronger than ever. he told me leon would be galar’s greatest champion. that leon would be the world’s greatest champion._

_i never wanted to hold leon back from doing whatever it was he dreamed of. even if i tried, he wouldn’t let me get in the way of his ambitions. he’s always been that way._

_just like his father._

_but i still couldn’t allow it. i couldn’t allow my ten year old son to run off and get hurt while i wasn’t around to help him._

_i told your father that. repeated it multiple times. thought i was being rational._

_he offered to go with leon. i refused._

_it wasn’t just about the physical danger. i’d seen what those champions on the telly were like. i’d seen how they were treated. heard the rumors. seen the aftermath._

_as much as i wanted leon to be the star he was born to be, i never wanted him to be paraded around like a doll, stripped of his own identity and told to dance around for a public that couldn’t have cared less for him. not my litleo._

_not leon._

_so your father and i started arguing._

_and arguing and arguing, until it wasn’t about leon anymore. it was about him and it was about me and it was about us and things escalated to a degree they hadn’t reached before and i couldn’t take it anymore. i couldn’t take any of it anymore._

_the first person who’d shown me a morsel of affection was trying to justify why he’d taken to abandoning me whenever he felt like it. the one person i thought would take my concerns into consideration wanted to haul my son to wyndon and allow them to make a show of him._

_i couldn’t take it anymore, hop._

_i told him i couldn’t._

_i told him i never wanted to see his face again. that i never wanted him to ever step foot in my house ever again. that he wasn’t needed nor wanted and that he could take himself to whatever ~~fucking~~ region he felt like exploiting over his own stupid delusions and forget all about his worthless family._

_i don’t remember much of what happened after that._

_i know that he left. that he slammed the door like a bratty child._

_that i felt like vomiting. like everything i’d ever worked for didn’t mean anything because i couldn’t manage to keep the one person who swore to never leave me from doing just that._

_i could practically hear my father laughing at me. telling me he’d been right all along._

_what a useless daughter._

_what a useless woman._

_that one. always that one._

_and just when i felt things couldn’t get worse_

_i heard him._

_i turned around and_

_saw him._

_leon. standing on the other side of the screen door leading to the backyard, looking at me as if i’d torn his heart out of his chest and shattered it to pieces._

_i knew, at that moment, i’d lost any affection he could have held for me._

_i never saw your father again after that._

_i think leon did, but i’m not sure._

_as for your brother, he went off to wyndon. became champion. just like he always wanted to be._

_he still stopped by from time to time. mostly for you. always for you._

_he loved you so much, hop. even if he hated me, he loved you, and i was fine with that. i was fine with him looking at me as if i was scum beneath his shoe. fine with him ignoring me and taking you out to play._

_i understood him._

_the one person he loved more than anyone suddenly wasn’t around anymore_

_and the person who drove him away was his own mother._

_of course he hated me. i understood, because i hate me too. i hate myself for everything. for not being good enough. not for your father, not for your brother._

_not even for you._

_i can’t even stay alive long enough to prove myself to you._

_i ruined everything. that’s all i’ve ever done._

_because, don’t you know, hop?_

_not only did i send your father away, but your brother too._

_he came by one day. he was already upset. i don’t know over what. i tried asking him, but he didn’t want to talk._

_i could never leave well enough alone though. i know i shouldn’t have pushed him, but i did. i kept trying to get him to talk, because that’s what a mummy should do. try to help her sons out even if they don’t want anything to do with her._

_leon didn’t want to talk. not to anyone._

_especially not to me._

_that’s what he said. he said he didn’t want anything to do with me. that the only reason he ever stopped by was because his father and sonia suggested it. he wasn’t around by choice. if it was for him, he’d never come around at all._

_and that_

_hurt me._

_it was one thing to assume. another to hear it in my sweet litleo’s own words._

_and i_

_i got angry._

_i don’t know where it came from. i don’t know why my reaction was to lash out, but i’ve made a habit of making the wrong choices at critical moments so that’s what i did._

_i said horrible horrible things to my own son._

~~_i tol_ ~~

~~_who didn’t_ ~~

~~_that his father_ ~~

~~_t_ _h_ ~~

_i’m scum._

_worse than scum. worse than anything._

_i’m rubbish. i’ve always been. i never should have hoped for anything better. i never should have approached your father. never should have brought either of you into this world if all i was going to do was fail you both every step of the way._

_on what planet would he have r_ _esponded ~~well to~~_

_he didn’t. of course he did ~~n’t.~~_

_he just_

_gave me this look. didn’t yell. didn’t scream._

_didn’t insult me back._

_didn’t say another word to me._

_just left._

_and never came back._

_i never saw him again._

_i had nothing. nobody._

_except for you, darling._

_and even then, i didn’t deserve you._

_i didn’t deserve anything._

_i don’t deserve anything._

_i’m sorry, hop._

_i’m sorry your mummy’s scum._

_i’m so sorry._

Hop wanted the truth.

He has it now.

Funnily enough, he doesn’t feel any better about anything.

“Hop!”

Leon’s voice booms from behind him. He turns around as his brother’s footsteps echo across the stone floors of the terrace, a wide grin stretched across his face.

“Hop!” Leon exclaims again. “I’ve figured it out! I know what I’m going to do! I know what I’m—“ He stops short, a few feet away. His grin falls. “…Hop? What’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt? Why are you crying?”

Crying?

Hop touches his face with both hands, surprised by the tears he finds streaking down either side.

He hadn't noticed.

“I-I’m fine.” He quickly wipes his face with his sleeve. Talk about embarrassing. There’s a reason he tries to keep to his room whenever the letters come around. “It’s nothing.”

“You sure?” Leon approaches him, a frown marring his features. “What’s up? You know you can tell me anything.” He glances at the envelope clutched in Hop’s fist. “What’s that? Is it that? Did that upset you?”

Hop brings his hand up. The letter’s crinkled and crushed, his nails leaving behind clear indentations imbedded into the paper. His name is smudged, whether from his sweaty palms or the tears that unknowingly sprung from his eyes.

The question of whether or not to discuss this isn’t a question at all.

He needs to know.

Needs to confirm this once and for all.

“Leon.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you leave?” Hop asks, dropping any pretense of hesitance. He needs to hear it from his brother himself. Needs to hear it in his own words. “Why didn’t you ever come back?”

Leon averts his gaze.

“I…I wasn’t wanted.”

“Why did you think that?”

“She said as much. Figured I’d do her a favor and take myself out of the picture before she could do it for me. Like she did with him.”

“What did she say to you?”

“Hop—“

“What did she _say_?” Hop presses, desperate. He needs to hear it. Needs to understand. Needs to know what she said to drive him away. What she said to shame herself into hiding it from Hop. She couldn’t even _write_ the words. “What did she say to make you leave?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It's the reason you left.”

“You don’t need to hear it.”

“Tell me what she said.”

“ _Why_?” Leon demands. He looks pained. “Why do you want to know? You know it can’t be good. You _know_. Why do you want to hear it when you _know_?”

“I just want to know the _truth_.” Hop’s voice cracks. Enough is _enough_. “Please _tell me_. Why would you leave? Why would you disappear for years? What did she _say_?”

Leon stares at him, lips pressed into a tight line, his fists clenched.

Slowly, he raises a hand to the brim of his cap and tugs it down, shielding the upper part of his face.

“She…She said I wasn’t any different from him. That I was wasting my time with a meaningless profession. Making a fool of myself for all of Galar, all of the _world_ , to laugh at. That I looked like an idiot on television. That it was all some worthless attempt to beg for scraps of my father’s attention. That I was just chasing his coattails, hoping that he’d look at me and someday actually matter to him, because I _didn’t_. I never had. If I had—“ He cuts himself off, biting his lip. “If I had ever mattered to him, maybe he would have stuck around long enough to show it. That’s what she told me, Hop. That’s what she said and that’s why I left.”He laughs. There’s nothing jovial about it. “Why would I _ever_ want to be around someone who thought everything I loved was some big joke? Someone who never had the decency to apologize for what she said and did. I never reached out, but it’s not as if she did either. Why the hell would I want to speak to her when all she ever viewed me as was one big _joke_?”

Leon angles his body away from him, teeth clenched.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?”

No.

Not at all.

Hop regrets asking, because now that he knows, he can’t go back to pretending that his mum never said those things.

What can he say to any of that? In all their time together, his mother never once said anything cruel to him. Never once implied that his aspirations were fruitless endeavors, fools errands, idiotic and worthless.

His mother was kind and caring. Patient and loving.

She never lashed out at him.

She never spoke ill of those he held dear.

Hop understands she was frustrated. By her husband and by their relationship and by the rift between she and her son. He understands how much pain she suffered through. All the weight she carried and all the ill feelings she kept to herself. He watched her _die_ , for heaven’s sake.

But could that frustration justify saying those terrible things to Leon? Justify telling him that his passions were empty and that the father he looked upon as a hero was nothing more than a cruel villain?

Couldn’t she have made a simple call? A simple request for a talk? Explained herself to him?

Why did she only reach out when she was breathing her last?

“I…I don’t get it.” Hop’s grip weakens. The letter in his hand flutters to the floor. “I don’t—Why?”

He doesn’t get it. Why is his mum different from Leon’s mum? Why is his dad different from Leon’s dad?

Why couldn’t his father have stayed? Why couldn’t he have stayed and made his mum happy? If she was happy, they wouldn’t have fought and if they hadn’t fought, Leon wouldn’t have seen them arguing, and if he hadn’t seen them arguing, he wouldn’t have hated her and they’d all still be together and Hop wouldn’t have to be thinking about his mum saying anything mean to the only family he had left anymore.

“I’m not lying.” Leon tells him, his voice lacking any particular inflection. “That’s what she said. But even if she did, I don’t want that to…to _change_ anything for you. That was between us. It had nothing to do with you. Don’t let it affect who she was to you, okay? She was your mum until the end and that’s what matters.”

Hop isn’t listening anymore. He’s too caught up in his own thoughts. He listlessly begins to walk forward, past Leon.

“Hop?”

“I…I’m going to my room.” He manages to choke out, rushing inside.

On the way in, he nearly bumps into Raihan, who’s tired smile immediately gives way to concern at Hop’s state.

“Hopscotch? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I’m tired.” He mutters, striding past the gym leader and towards his room. He shuts the door behind him quietly, collapsing onto his bed.

What is he supposed to make of any of this?

That his mother is the reason Leon didn’t come back?

That the reason she and Leon ever argued in the first place was because his father refused to set aside his wanderlust for the sake of his family?

That his family is one big mess?

Is this the truth he wanted? The truth he’s been waiting for this entire time? All it’s done is make him feel sick to his stomach.

Why would his mother hide this from him for so long? Was it shame? Was it embarrassment? Was it her wanting to block out all the sad parts of her and Hop’s life and pretend they never happened? Pretend it was only ever the both of them and nobody else?

If she’d told him, maybe Hop could have done something. Maybe he could have been the one to unite them.

Maybe he could have been an actual hero. An actual prince. One who brings his people together and keeps them from falling apart. From falling into despair.

Maybe he could have been useful to her.

 _why_ , hop thinks, stuffing his face into his pillow to muffle his sobs. _why didn’t she let me help?_

He wishes he could ask her. Could ring his mother up and have her tell him in person and not through letters. They aren’t enough. They’ve never been enough. He wants to hear her voice. Wants her to tell him to his face.

But she can’t do that anymore, and there’s nobody he can ask to give him a better idea of what she could have been thinking.

Nobody.

Nobody…

No.

That’s not quite right.

Hop turns his face to the side, cheek pressed against his pillow.

He stares blankly at the incubator, his partner tucked inside, warm and cozy. As they should always be. As Hop will always make sure they are.

“Not nobody.” He mutters, eyes fluttering shut.

 _Not_ nobody.

* * *

“Hey, Lee? Just saw the kid run into his room. He looked upset. What happened? Did he not take the news well?”

Leon doesn’t immediately respond. He’s staring at the crumpled letter in his hand, skimming the words written in familiar scrawl. He doesn’t feel any particular emotion besides emptiness, even towards the end where raw emotion begins to bleed onto the parchment through every word and punctuation.

Perhaps he’s not the most aware of individuals, but he’s no fool. It isn’t as if the information is shocking in any way. He knew. He grew up and learned a few things. Gained a bit of perspective, although not in every way that mattered.

Hop certainly deserved better.

As for his mother, Leon’s still not quite comfortable enough to dwell on that particular can of worms.

“What’s that?” Raihan asks, stepping behind him to peek over his shoulder. “Mail?”

“A letter.” He responds, handing it over. “For Hop. The reason he’s upset. Partially.”

He allows Raihan to read the contents while he collects his thoughts.

He’s not sure how to go about dealing with this. The last thing he ever wanted was to upset his younger brother by bringing up memories he was far too eager to keep locked away. If Hop hadn’t asked, he doesn’t believe he would have ever voluntarily brought them up. His relationship with his mother aside, he didn’t want to ruin Hop’s image of her. Didn’t want him to doubt in her affection for him.

Just because she and Leon were on less than amicable terms the days leading up to her death, that didn’t mean Hop needed to carry the burden of their disagreements.

And now he would, because Hop was far too sweet _not_ to dwell on family spats that took placeyears ago, reaching back to the time before his birth.

A curse and a blessing. Sometimes, Leon wishes he wouldn’t care so much.

“Damn.” Raihan winces once he’s done, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Not to be indelicate, but this is some pretty heavy shit. Did you know about any of this? Any idea at all?”

“I had a feeling.” Leon tells him, taking his cap off to readjust it on his head. “Once I wasn’t as angry, I figured there had to be a reason for it. Just…never bothered confirming it with her.”

“Not like she insulted your livelihood and implied your father never loved you.” Raihan remarks humorlessly. “Considering those are two major parts of who you are, I reckon it was justified. Can’t blame ya for not going back to try and talk things out.”

“Do you think he does?” Leon asks softly. “I think he does.”

“Did he say he does?”

“No.”

“Then don’t assume that.” Raihan playfully smacks his arm with the envelope. “He woulda let you know if he did.”

“He was crying, when I came out here. It made him cry. I told him what she said. I think I made it worse.”

“The truth’ll do that.” Raihan shrugs. “I’m not sure what else you were expecting. This ain’t exactly a pleasant postcard, Lee. His mother just explained why his dad and his brother have never been around, and then you tell him she effectively demoralized you. He’s hurt.” He grows somber at that. “He loves her, thinks the world of her, so he’s taking it to heart. Kid needs time to process everything. Hell, _you_ need time to process everything.”

“What’s there to process?” Leon snorts. He was of the opinion he’d long since processed everything. “My father left because he couldn’t keep his feet still. Mum hated that. They fought about it. She told him to get lost and I hated her for it. Then _we_ fought and I left and inadvertently gave my little brother abandonment issues to the point where he thinks any false move I make is me disappearing on him. That’s…that’s so fucked up, Rai. I’m so fucked up.”

“Only a little.”

“ _Rai_.”

“What? I am, too. _Everyone_ is.” Raihan sighs, grabbing Leon’s hand to lace their fingers together. “Look, he’s upset now and we should respect that. Give him some space. When he’s up for it, you two can talk it out, come to terms with everything. We can even move your appointment at the doc’s up if it’s necessary. I don't think he's going to up and label you public enemy number one again after this.”

“Not even if he thinks I’m a dirty liar who’s been deceiving him this entire time and one mood swing away from packing his bags and turning him into an orphanage?”

“Can’t say it never crossed his mind in the beginning, but _no_ , that’s _not_ what I think he’s got bouncing around in that head of his.” Raihan bumps their arms together. “Hopscotch is smart, Lee. Once he’s got all the facts, he’ll make his own conclusions. You need to give him time to do that for himself and clear up any misunderstandings along the way. That’s what a big bro is for…I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m just guessing here.” Raihan offers good-naturedly. “Like you. Like him. Like everyone else ever. You’re _fine_. He’ll be fine. Don’t sweat it.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Leon rests himself against Raihan's chest, melting into his comforting embrace. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Me neither.” Raihan runs a hand through Leon’s wild mane of hair. “I’m a rare and valuable commodity. Does you well to recognize that.”

“Treasure sounds better.”

“I like the way that sounds, too. Please, tell me more, oh holy savior of Galar. Praise me.”

“Fuck off.” Leon laughs, trailing off into a gloomy sigh. “...D’you think I should check on him?”

“It’s late. Give it a day. Let him sleep off the initial shock. I don’t think he’ll be very receptive otherwise.”

It’s sound enough advice. Leon follows it and leaves Hop to sleep the night away, hoping to continue their discussion the following day if Hop is willing and up for it.

The problem is, when he gets up the next morning, hoping to surprise his brother with the breakfast he helped Raihan prepare, he doesn’t answer his door.

It’s odd enough for him to sleep in on a weekday, much more on a weekend, when that show about the sailor girls he loves so much is on bright and early.

Concerned, Leon summons for Galahad, who he requested leave Hop on his own the previous night, to ensure a better rest. He grumpily appears beside him, eyeing him with confusion.

“Can you check on him?” Leon pleads. As much as he’s worried, there are certain boundaries he doesn’t want to cross. Hop hates when people don’t knock. Leon doesn’t want to breach that basic need for privacy and respect. “Please?”

Galahad nods and disintegrates into shadowy particles.

A moment later, the door opens from the other side.

Galahad’s eyes are narrowed into slits, his expression grim.

Leon enters the room.

Nothing seems out of place. Everything is neat and tidy. As expected.

Besides the empty incubator.

And besides the empty bed.

Hop is gone.


	19. to the ends of our world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the beginning marks the end, and the end marks a new beginning.

There’s a saying Leon likes to attribute to the darkest moments of his life.

When it rains, it pours.

He’s experienced plenty of violent downpours, ones that have left him downtrodden and desperate for sunlight. For a single break in a dark cloudy sky. A glimmer of warmth in a cold and barren wasteland of disappointment and self-hatred.

There’s been plenty of moments in his life where he’s sunk to his knees and begged for mercy. Begged for a way to fix everything wrong with his life and to forget about all the mistakes and regrets that keep him up at night when sleep won’t come and he’s too amped up to do anything but stare at the ceiling and ponder about less than champion times.

He doesn’t think his life is anything close to being a tragedy. More have suffered worse. _Are_ suffering worse. Far worse than he ever could.

He just wishes things could be different. Wishes he could figure out a way to keep everything precious to him close. Safe and sound. Keep them happy.

All he’s ever been good at is driving them away.

“Got everyone on it.” Raihan announces as he strides back into the room. His face is deceptively calm, but Leon knows better. Can see the way his hackles are raised, his teeth bared. He’s seconds away from bolting to conduct a search of his own, holding himself back more for Leon’s sake than anything else. “They’re going over any security footage they can get their hands on. Searching for any witnesses. You sure he didn’t leave a note? Anything at all?”

“I looked.” Leon replies listlessly, shaking his head. He tore Hop’s room apart piece by piece in a panic, combed over every inch. There’s no doubt he’ll be getting an earful for it once they finally find him. It’s hardly much of a price to pay at all. An angry, grumpy brother yelling at him is infinitely better than not having one around at all. “There’s nothing.”

“This is sure fucked.” Raihan tugs his headband down, running both hands over his face. “We better get out there soon. I’ll call Sonia and everyone else. Might be a chance he ran off towards them.”

“You don’t have to.” Leon sighs. “I know where he is.”

 _Now_ he does at least. Only took nearly destroying his brother’s room, Raihan talking him down from a near panic attack, and stewing in his own misery to figure it out.

As complex and complicated as Hop’s feelings can be, he’s actually rather predictable when he’s upset. Or maybe Leon’s just getting better at reading him.

He wants to hope he is.

“…sorry, didn’t quite get that.” Raihan says, inclining his head. “What’d ya say?”

“I know where he is.”

“You know where he is.”

“I do.”

“You do.”

“Yes.”

“You _know_ where he _is_.”

“Yes.”

“ _For real_.”

“Yes.”

“What the _fuck_.” Raihan’s blank shock quickly shifts to anger. “Why the hell didn’t you _say so_! I just sent the entire fucking force out into the wilds to look for him and you’re being _coy_? What are you waiting for? Say _where_ so we can bring him back!”

“That’s the _problem_ , Rai.” Leon says miserably, head falling into his hands. “What if he doesn’t _want_ to come back? He left for a reason, didn’t he? I ruined _everything_.”

Because he’s good at that. Leon’s so damn good at ruining everything for his family. He ruined Hop’s childhood, ruined their brotherhood, ruined his image of their mother, ruined _everything_ like he _always_ does.

What kind of champion is he? What kind of champion hurts everyone close to him?

What kind of champion willingly tears his family apart and is too afraid to turn back and try to salvage what he’s destroyed?

Now that he’s finally got his head on straight—

It’s too late.

It’s way too late.

If he hadn’t been such a fucking _coward_ —

Maybe things would be different.

“…Lee.”

He refuses to look up. He’s never felt so ashamed in his life.

“Leon.” Raihan’s quiet footsteps echo across the empty room. The sound of him kneeling, the feeling of his hands settling themselves upon his knees follow. “Leon, look at me.”

He _can’t_.

“Leon.” A hand touches his cheek. Raihan’s voice is soft and gentle. “Talk to me. What’re you thinking?”

“He loves her, Rai.” Leon chokes out, clutching his hair. “He loves her and I told him what she said to me. I shouldn’t have. I-I desecrated her image for him.”

“You told him the truth.”

“I _shouldn’t_ _have_.”

“He _asked_ you to.” Raihan raises Leon's chin so he is forced to meet his gaze. His eyes are steely. “Even if it wasn’t yesterday or today or tomorrow, he would have asked eventually and you would have told him the truth no matter how upset you knew he'd get. You’re not a liar, Lee. You’ve never been.”

“But I _am_.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t bother going to see her.” It was never that. It was never about being _bothered_ to go back. She was his _mother_ for heaven’s sake. “I-I was…I was _scared_ , Rai. I was scared of talking to her again because…because once I wasn’t mad, once I thought about it more…she was right, wasn’t she? About everything? About my job and my father and what an idiot I’ve turned into for all of Galar to laugh at?”

“Of course she wasn’t right.” Raihan quickly denies before biting his lip. “At least, not in the ways you think she was.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lee, I can’t tell you what she was or wasn’t thinking, but it wasn’t right for her to say what she did to you. You didn’t deserve that. I’d _like_ to think she was looking out for you and just…couldn’t express it well, but I don’t know. I’d _like_ to think it was because of how shit the situation at home was and she just…snapped? For a second? I mean…” He trails off, breaking eye contact.

“Say it, Rai.” Leon tells him bluntly. It’s too little too late for either of them to start pulling punches where they really count. “You’re not gonna hurt my feelings.”

“I’m trying to be considerate.”

“I’d appreciate your _actual_ thoughts.”

Raihan hesitates, lips pressed into a thin line.

“You…you blamed her for it, didn’t you?” He finally asks. “For your pa taking off? For kicking him out?”

“I did.” Leon responds without a shred of doubt.

It’s true. He did. He blamed her because he was an angry, ignorant child who refused to see reason and could only ever see the empty spots around the house his father once occupied. The armchair by the telly, the swing on the front porch, the kitchen where he’d bustle around whistling pleasant tunes foreign to Leon’s ears.

All he could _ever_ see was his father, even when it was his _mother_ who remained with him until the day he left for Wyndon. _She_ was the one who raised him properly. She didn’t battle, didn’t think much of Pokémon or of the shows he liked or of the action figures he used to play with like his father did, but _she_ was the one who would tuck him in and tell him stories and patch him up when he came back bruised and battered after a day of rough housing with Sonia.

She was _always_ there. She never left. Not once.

Too blinded by his devotion to his father, he hadn’t noticed.

And now, it was too late to start.

“Do you still blame her?” Raihan asks quietly. “Do you still think it’s her fault?”

A younger, brattier Leon’s answer would be drenched in venom. Toxic and resentful and hateful. Unreasonable.

Current Leon is too tired for that. Too wisened up.

“No, I don’t.” He answers simply. “Yeah, he’s my father. Always behaved like one whenever he was around. Treated me well and encouraged me to follow my dreams. He’s the reason I’m here with you instead of shepherding wooloo down south. I love him and I’m not sure if I can ever bring myself not to, but he’s a piece of shit for fucking off like he always did. For leaving me and mum like that. _All the time_. Fuck him.”

Leon is sure he’ll fall into an easy and pleasant rhythm with his father the next time they meet, in spite of his words. It’s always been that way, even when he wasn’t actively angry with his mother for something she could do nothing to prevent. It’s frustrating to think about, especially since the reason Hop’s suffered for so long is because Leon decided a petty, unnecessary alliance with his gallivanter father was more valuable than trying to make amends with the mother he always had back in Postwick.

Maybe next time, he’ll ask more questions instead of pretending the woman who raised him didn’t deserve a single mention. Maybe next time, he would stop denying the obvious.

Maybe next time, he would deck his father in the name of everyone he’s hurt with his shitty parenting.

Who knows.

“I can’t say it doesn’t hurt when I remember what she said.” Leon rubs a hand over his chest. “I know she was fed up with everything, with her shitty husband and her dumbass of a son—“

“—don’t say that Lee—

“—but I can’t forget and act like it didn’t happen. Like she never said it.” Leon clenches his fists. “I don’t…I don’t think I’ll ever forget, but I don’t want that to define everything she was to Hop. He loved her so much. I don’t think he would have if she hadn’t given him reason to. He doesn’t just…give his affection out like that. He…he _doesn’t_.”

“He doesn’t.” Raihan agrees.

“He doesn’t.” Leon repeats, eyes downcast. “Does that mean he won’t take them back easily either?”

“Not if you don’t give him a proper reason to.” Raihan smiles, smoothing Leon’s fringe back. “I don’t think telling him the truth, something he always appreciates, is going to make him hate you. I don’t see that happening.”

“Easy for you to say.” Leon scoffs. “You’re his favorite. You could tell him the moon is made of PokéPuffs and he wouldn’t question it.”

“He’d _absolutely_ question it. That’s what Hopscotches _do_.”

“He’d forgive you for it though. He’d praise your bravery and creativity in fooling him.”

“We talkin’ about the same kid here?” Raihan ruffles his hair playfully. “Stop thinking the worst, Lee. Even if he _is_ mad at you, which I _really_ don’t think he is, once he makes sense of everything, he’ll come around. I’m not saying it won’t be difficult and I’m not saying you two aren’t going to rehash this again and again until you both see eye to eye. What I _am_ saying is, Hop’s not one to throw in the towel over one unpleasant truth. He’s in too deep to give up on you now. Show him the same courtesy.”

“Wasn’t planning otherwise.”

“Good.” Leon’s response earns him a peck on the cheek. “Now, go bring him back. You sure you know where he is?”

“One hundred percent.” Leon rises to his feet, about to whistle for Arthur before he recalls he can’t exactly get to him from where he’s plastered on the other side of the terrace’s glass doors, eyeing Leon with impatience. The rest of the gang fares much the same, besides Dee, who’s sobbing into Mordred’s arms. “Call it a hunch.”

“How about we call it big brother intuition?” Raihan suggests, following him towards their ‘mons. “You know what you’re going to say?”

“Not really, but I don’t think I can do any worse than I already have.” Sad but true. Leon's life story. “Worse case scenario, he gets pouty, calls me a _dummy-meany head_ and you have to bribe him out of his room with sweets.”

“You know him so well.”

“Not as much as I should.” Leon says with a laugh, opening the door. “But more than I did before.”

More than he did at the beginning and more than he did yesterday.

Leon hopes he can keep at it. Keep learning. Keep growing. Keep moving. For his sake. For Hop’s. He’s wasted enough opportunities as it is.

He doesn’t want failing his little brother to be another regret to join the rest.

* * *

“While it wouldn’t be entirely truthful to say I wasn’t expecting you, I can’t say the same for the hour you chose to arrive.” A tea tray is placed onto the kitchen table with a clack. “Quite early, wouldn’t you say?”

He could indeed say. It’s very early. Not nearly as early as when he set out, but still too early to not be a bother for anyone hoping to sleep in on a day typically designated for respite. He doesn’t think this particular individual was planning on any such thing, a workaholic to the core, though it doesn’t lessen the guilt imparted onto him.

“I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Nonsense.” The professor tuts, pouring out two cups of tea. “Milk, three cubes of sugar, a drop of honey, and a spritz of lemon, no?” She speaks without really presenting him a choice, adding in the extras without hesitation, not waiting for him to formulate a response.

“That’s right.”

“As particular as ever. That sweet tooth of yours is unmatched.”

Hop sheepishly accepts the cup offered to him. He initially refused it out of courtesy, but the professor made quick work of his protests.

It’s probably for the best. Accepting a cup is only proper etiquette, not to mention how badly Hop’ll need it if he wants to have a somewhat coherent discussion about all the thoughts muddling his mind. The scalding heat on his fingers and tongue offers a semblance of grounding.

“It’s not the same if it’s not done the right way.” He replies in an attempt at cheeky lightheartedness. Whether those feelings get across is unclear. Professor Magnolia doesn’t outwardly indicate whether she buys his attitude or not, settling only for a light titter, joining him at the table.

“Yes, yes. The little prince _must_ have it his way.” She sighs as if put upon, though the teasing nature of her words shines through. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Children should be spoiled and comforted.” She eyes him over the rims of her glasses. “Although, I don’t presume to think that is the reason you are here. Far from it, no?”

“If it was, I doubt you’d offer it.”

She hums.

“Perhaps not. I can’t say I’m all that adept at comfort. Ask sweet Sonia.”

“I don’t need to. My mother says otherwise.”

She smiles.

“So keen. How long did it take for you to figure out?”

“The train ride here.” Hop admits, embarrassed. He doesn’t know how he didn’t put the pieces together earlier. Who else would his mother entrust with such a responsibility? There were few she was close to, and considering neither his father nor Leon were options, there was only one real possibility.

“I think that’s fair. You’ve been otherwise occupied this entire time, haven’t you?”

“I think receiving letters from my deceased mother should have prompted a more thorough investigation from me. It shouldn’t have taken this long.”

“Grief doesn’t care much for what is rational, Hop.” Magnolia sighs, taking a sip from her cup. “I hardly think the origin mattered in the first place.”

“I guess not.” He agrees. It’s true enough. Where the letters were coming from didn’t matter. The contents did. They were a way for Hop to feel connected to his mother. To feel as though she was still with him. As if she was still on the other side of Galar.

Somewhere, tucked away in Postwick, waiting to see him again.

“Did she ask you?” He inquires, stirring his tea. “To send them?”

“She did.” The professor confirms. “She asked for my advice on a few of them, but otherwise, the idea was entirely hers. She felt it was the only way to communicate what she wanted to say.”

“She could have _told_ _me_.”

Magnolia’s demeanor turns melancholic.

“I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that.”

Of course it isn’t. Nothing can be simple. Especially not with Hop’s disaster of a family. Why is it that none of them can ever just _say_ what they mean?

“Are you angry?” The professor asks him, tone devoid of any particular emotion. “Is that why you’re here? If it is, I’m afraid I can do little to assuage those feelings. No amount of explanations can invalidate them. Are you angry, Hop?”

“No.” He answers bluntly. Not entirely truthful. There’s a _twinge_ of it sprinkled into the range of emotions he’s feeling. Anger is certainly the least of it. “I’m…mostly just confused. Maybe sad. But mostly confused. I…I don’t get it.”

“And you want clarity.”

“Kinda.”

Magnolia breathes in and out, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“While I can offer you anything I may know, I cannot guarantee any of it is what you’d prefer to hear. I would rather you not leave here hurt and angry, but I can’t tell you anything except what little truth I may have at my disposal. Is that something you’re prepared for?”

“I am.” Hop grips the handle of his teacup harshly. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure, dear? I can’t imagine this to be the pleasant conversation either of us would rather it be.”

“I am.” He repeats. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. Wouldn’t have snuck out before sunrise, taken the train all the way out to Wedgehurst, and knocked on the familiar mahogany door _knowing_ the professor would answer, and _knowing_ she wouldn’t sugar coat anything.

He wants to confirm everything. Wants to be freed from all his doubts and uncertainties.

He wants to lay everything to rest.

“Very well.” Magnolia glances at the egg tucked into the high-chair beside him, Sonia’s old one apparently, cushioned by a plushy pillow and blanket. She seemed relatively surprised to see him holding it, but didn’t say anything about it besides scolding him for not having a proper, traveling capsule to carry it in. Apparently, a makeshift sling hastily put together with a few rags and pillow cases isn’t ideal for egg safety. Who knew? “I take it you have no issues with your charge listening in.”

“They’re my partner.” Is all Hop offers in response. While it’s unlikely they’re even aware of what’s happening around them, he appreciates the professor taking them into consideration. She’s nothing if not good at humoring him.

“To think I’d see the day.” Her eyes crinkle, a small, fond smile appearing upon her lips. “I suppose we should get into it. Tell me Hop, what is it you wish to know?”

Oh _boy_.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Wherever you’d like. There’s no rush. I have nowhere to be.”

“Weren’t you leaving when I got here?”

“A few lab tests.” She waves him off. “Nothing that can’t be done tomorrow. Besides, it saves me from a scolding. Sonia’s been insistent on running me off. Says I need to become accustomed to it being her lab.”

Hop blinks.

“ _Her_ lab?”

“Such a presumptuous little lass, isn’t she?” The professor says that, but she seems pleased about it. Ecstatic even. “Says when she gets back from Wyndon, it’s _hers_ and there’s nothing I can do about it. That I should start knitting at home like a proper nan, the brat.”

“Sounds like her.”

“Aye, that’s teeny tiny Sonia.” Magnolia shakes her head. “But let us not be sidetracked. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay.” Not interested in meandering around what he’s really here for, Hop decides on the most obvious source of contention between he and his brother. “My father. What kind of person is he?”

“A fool.” The professor answers bluntly. At Hop’s stricken expression, she sighs. “My apologies Hop, but that’s simply based on my observations. Your mother was dear to me, but I’m more than capable of setting those feelings aside to be objective, which is what I’m presuming you want.”

“I-I do.”

“Then he was a fool.” She stares into her teacup. “A wildly talented, kind, optimistic and ridiculously charismatic fool, but a fool all the same. He would have to be to have done what he did.”

“Why would he?” Hop inquires. “Why would he leave like that?”

Magnolia considers her response.

“…Sometimes, people aren’t quite sure of what they want.” She begins. “People are…complicated. I can’t pretend to know what he was thinking, but I gather he was afraid. A person like your father, one who goes where the wind takes him and never truly stops to observe the scenery, what would he have known about commitment? After traveling independently for so long, I imagine the thought of having anything to anchor him down was a terrifying prospect. A family means more than simply offering a few encouraging words one moment and bidding each other farewell the next. It means being present and providing and never pulling yourself away from the duties bestowed upon you, especially once children are involved. Children _need_ you. They need more than the occasional visit or gift. They need constant attention and support. _Stability_. Perhaps that wasn’t something he felt capable of providing.”

“But my mum did.” Hop argues. “She _never_ left. Even when she was by herself and things got really tough, she never left me. Even when she was tired and sad, she always took care of me, right until the end.”

“Your father and mother are two very different people, dear. Your mother _longed_ for a family. She never had a proper one, so when she was blessed with one, she cherished it. Put all of her effort into ensuring you were all as content as possible. If that meant going along with your father’s whims and watching him leave, that’s what she would do.” Magnolia frowns. “She loved him deeply. Adored him to an extent I’ve never witnessed in any other couple. Now, there’s nothing wrong with loving your spouse to such a degree. That was never the problem.

"Unhealthy as it was, I fear the real issue was how entirely too dependent on him she was. I feel she viewed him as a lifeline of sorts, as if he were the sole solution to all of her problems. That wasn’t the case. It never could have been. She…struggled greatly to understand that she needed the kind of help he couldn’t provide her. I tried, Hop. I truly did, but she was never willing to seek outside aid to help sort through her troubles.”

The professor pauses, lips flattening.

“I think it would have helped. Your mother was stubborn though. Insisted her problems were her own to solve. I listened to her worries whenever I could, hoping to lessen her pain, if ever so much. It was never quite enough.”

“It _was_ enough.” Hop replies hastily. For his mother to have considered the professor a good friend, someone she could rely on and look to for guidance, it could have only meant she trusted her. That she appreciated her. “You helped her so much, Professor. She always looked better whenever you two finished speaking. I never knew what your conversations were about, but I know it helped her. You couldn’t do anything more than that. Like you said, mum was stubborn.”

“Thank you, dear.” Magnolia smiles kindly. “I can only hope you understand that is true for yourself as well.”

Hop looks down at his hands.

“I…I’m not sure about that.”

“Why-ever not?”

“It’s just…why didn’t she _tell_ _me_?” Why? Why would his mother keep everything to herself? Why would she brush everything to the side and pretend it didn’t exist? His father. Even Leon! “I-If I’d known, I could have helped her. I could have helped fixed things. I could have done _something_. I could have—“

“You were and still _are_ a _child_ , Hop.” The professor’s tone offers no room for rebuttal. “It is _not_ and has _never been_ your responsibility to ‘ _fix_ ’ anything, much less your parent’s marital issues. What occurred between was never your fault.” Her expressions softens. “You hold _none_ of the blame. You _never_ have. Please don’t ever think you do, because that is untrue.”

“But I…” Hop takes a shaky breath. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Your mother only ever wanted the best for you. She never wanted you to experience what she and Leon did. She wanted those around you to _always_ be present. To never disappear into the night without a trace and waltz back in whenever they felt like it. No father was better than a less than adequate one in her eyes.” Magnolia frowns. “I’m not one to say what is and isn’t correct parenting. What would or wouldn’t have benefited you more. Even now, I don’t know everything that transpired between them to have warranted your mother making such a decision. All I know is that she did so with good intentions. She was willing to pull all the weight if it meant raising you in an environment where you were never deprived of attention or affection.”

“What about Leon?”

“Leon is a far more complicated matter.” The professor sighs heavily. “While your mother and brother were never quite as attached as he and your father were, she _adored_ him. Looked upon him as if he were the very sun. He was her first born. Could never deny him anything.” She laughs lightly. “She would often come to me asking whether to allow whatever it was he was begging of her. No matter my answer, she would give in regardless and return shamefaced the next day. Not that I didn’t understand. Leon has always been rather difficult to say no to.”

“It’s really annoying.” It truly is. There’s nothing more annoying than wanting to be annoyed at his brother, only to be met with his patented ‘hurt and hopeful’ double whammy of a Yamper look, erasing any and all inclinations towards rage one can feel towards him.

No wonder he’s kept Raihan around for so long. It’s that accursed _look_.

“We’ve all been subjected to his charm at least once.” Magnolia tells him, expression turning somber. “He…never truly forgave her for what happened. From what I could observe, he blamed her whole-heartedly. Was never quite willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Not when he was a child at least.”

“What about when he grew up?”

The professor smiles sadly.

“I’m afraid you already know the answer to that question.”

It’s the only one Hop’s ever had.

Leon never showed up again and Hop was left with his mother, intending on spending the rest of his days either despising or purposefully ignoring any trace of his existence.

Except now he has all this information. Now he knows his father was unreliable, his mother was hurt far worse than he could have ever imagined. She is the reason his brother left, the result of her frustrations driving him further away and ultimately to blame for the sorry state of their family affairs.

“Why did she say those things to him?” Hop asks, finally, because he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about them. He can’t wrap his head around her ever saying them. Not to him. Not to Leon. “Why did she hurt Leon like that?”

“Pokémon tend to lash out when wounded.” Magnolia adjusts her glasses. “People are much the same. Leon hurt her and she hurt him back. She never should have. Should have recognized him as the child he was and explained herself, but that isn’t what happened. She drove him away, the opposite of what she wanted. Those were the consequences of her actions and she suffered for it until the day she died.”

“Is that why she thought I was him?” He asks quietly, not really for the sake of an answer. More for confirmation.

It makes sense, as much as it hurts. When she saw Leon in Hop, perhaps it wasn’t a matter of preference. Of her longing for one son’s presence over the other.

Perhaps it was one last desperate attempt to reconcile with someone who wasn’t there. Someone she couldn’t bring herself to seek out, too ashamed and embarrassed and regretful over what she’d done.

Maybe she was scared.

Maybe seeing Leon helped her.

Hop hopes it did.

Even if she spent her final moments gazing upon a Leon who wasn’t really there, if it could do anything to put her at ease, to allow her one final, easy breath, then maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to be mistaken for his brother.

“It would make sense.” Magnolia tells him. “Your mother held more regrets than one person can reasonably know what to do with. It wouldn’t be odd for them to culminate into a mix-up like that.”

“Do you think she would have reached out eventually? That she could have been forgiven?” They’re pointless questions to ask. What’s done is done. His mother isn’t around to be forgiven nor to offer her own in return. Ruminating over what can never be will only hurt him in the long-run and yet, Hop wants to know. Wants to receive what most closely resembles an answer from her. “If she reached out. If she went looking for him and spoke to him. Would he have forgiven her?”

“While the most I can say on your brother’s behalf is that it would be best to ask him personally, what I can say of your mother is this.” The professor covers Hop’s hand with her own. “She loved Leon as much as she loved you. It is my belief that once she was able to come to terms with and overcome all of her hangups, truly and honestly recognize that she needed help beyond what any of us could provide her, she would have reached out. Whether that meant weeks or months or years, I can’t say, but I firmly believe she would have mustered the courage one day.”

“One day.” Hop repeats in a whisper, wiping his glistening eyes with his free hand. “So much for that.”

“I’m afraid time waits for no one.” Magnolia murmurs, her grip firm and warm. “Hop dear, please don’t dwell on all those what ifs. Your mother wouldn’t have wanted that for you. She wouldn’t have wanted for you to take on her regrets as your own. She only ever wished for your happiness. For your comfort. For you to live as your own person and to make decisions for your own sake, not hers. Whatever mistakes she’s made, I won’t ask you to forgive her. You are in your right to feel any way you wish about what she’s done, but please don’t doubt that she loved you. She did. Perhaps there were better ways to show it, but she did. Undoubtably.”

“But that’s the problem isn’t it?” Hop says, his voice weak. “I know she did. I don’t doubt it. _Leon_ does. He thinks she never cared about him. That she didn’t want him around. She _hurt_ him. Why did she have to hurt him?”

“I don’t know, Hop.” The professor responds quietly. “I wish things could be different.”

“But they’re not.” They can never be. Not for them. Not for his family. “I-Is it okay to be angry at her?”

“Of course.”

“Will I be able to forgive her?”

“If that’s what you truly wish to do, it can be done. In time. At your own pace, by your own terms.

“Even if Leon doesn’t?”

“Leon will need to arrive at his own conclusions.” Magnolia rises from her chair, gathering their cups. Hop hadn’t realized he finished his tea. “You will need to respect them, and he yours, no matter how much they differ. It is no simple feat and yet, it must be done.”

Must be done, huh?

Hop’s no stranger to compromise at this point. He and Leon have yelled at each other enough times for him to realize that perhaps the truth isn’t always as obvious as it seems. That what he sees as fact isn’t always all there is to a story. That he doesn’t see the world the same way Leon does.

And that’s fine.

They aren’t a hive mind. They don’t need to agree on every little thing. Don’t need to share the same perspective on the past. That’s _impossible_.

He just wishes things could be different. That this wasn’t a conversation he even needed to have.

He wishes his mum were around. That she could have contacted Leon and set things straight before the inevitable came to pass.

It’s too late for her.

The same can’t be said for him.

The professor said her regrets don’t have to be his. That Hop shouldn’t be weighed down by her unfinished business. A lot easier said than done, but what if he turned that concept on its head?

If he can’t shoulder her leftover burdens, then perhaps Hop can simply live in a way she would have wanted to. The words left unsaid, the apologies left unmade, Hop has plenty of those to spare. Perhaps not as many as his mother, but enough to warrant he put on a brave face.

Keeping secrets is what caused this. If that’s the case, Hop will do the opposite. He won’t hide anymore. He won’t bottle everything up and leave his feelings to shrivel up and decay.

He won’t be afraid to say what needs to be said, won’t hide behind his own cowardice.

No matter how painful or difficult or scary it is, Hop won’t hesitate anymore.

He won’t be like his mother. He won’t be like his father or even Leon.

He’ll live his life on his own terms. By his own will.

He won’t be afraid.

“Seems we have a visitor.”

Hop blinks, looking up from the table. The professor is unlatching the window above the kitchen sink, holding her arm out. In a flash of black and blue, a familiar form lands upon her arm.

“You’ve been found out.” She says good-naturedly, running a hand over his feathers. The Corvisquire chirps, ruffling his plumage at the sight of Hop. He almost seems embarrassed. “And to think, our ruse was so very clever.”

“I didn’t realize it until today, so it must have been.” Hop laughs. “He was yours this whole time?”

“Not necessarily correct.” She walks back over. “He was brought in by one of the townsfolk. Found him beaten and bleeding by the river it seems. Human hands.”

“That’s _horrible_.”

“Aye.” Magnolia allows the bird to leap onto the table. “Not the prettiest sight by any means. His wings were mangled. We were of the opinion he’d likely never fly again, but the fellow proved us wrong. A fighting spirit to rival even the fiercest of trainers. Pulled through against all the odds.”

“Huh.” Hop offers his hand out in greeting. The Corvisquire eyes it. “But if you’ve been taking care of him, and he’s been delivering the letters, doesn’t that mean he’s been flying from here all the way to—“ He gasps. “All the way to _Hammerlocke?_ That’s really far away!”

“Think of it as his rehabilitation treatment.” The professor explains. “We started off with shorter distances, but he was always pushing past his limits and then some. The letters were a way to test him further, in a manner of speaking. If he could manage them better with each trip, that meant progress. I’d say it worked out quite well.”

“Did it ever.” Hop smiles when the Corvisquire butts his head against his fingers. “You’ve worked so hard, haven’t you? You never complained a single time. Good job!”

The Pokémon preens, puffing out his chest proudly, pleased by the praise.

“I was actually planning on releasing him one of these days.” Magnolia tells him. “He’s healed up splendidly, not in small part thanks to you.”

“Me?”

“But of course.” She grins knowingly. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice how plump he’s looked as of late? And that sheen on his feathers? Your efforts, no?”

“It was rude of me not to do it earlier.” Hop mumbles, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “He was going through the effort and all.”

“I’m sure he appreciates it.”

“Do you?” Hop tilts his head questioningly. “You don’t have to. I’m just wondering.”

The Corvisquire huffs and gives him a look as if to say ‘ _duh. obviously_.’

“What do you think?”

“Hm?”

“What are your thoughts?” The professor asks, gesturing towards the ‘mon. “Is he ready to fly the coop today?”

“Oh.” Hop looks down. “Do _you_ think you are?”

The Corvisquire looks at himself, taking his wings into consideration with no small amount of scrutiny.

Finally, he nods.

“Guess that’s that.” While the thought brings him a sense of sadness, Hop is also filled with overwhelming gratitude. The little guy has helped him a great deal these past few months, delivering his mother’s letters and offering him solace he once thought out of reach. The least he deserves is a place in the sky, where he can cut across the clouds and see the world for what it truly is.

Both unbelievably cruel and wonderfully beautiful at the same time.

“Ah, but there is one last matter we should address before we go ahead and set him free.”

“What’s that?”

“A name.” The professor points out. “I held back on it because I couldn’t come up with one that suited him. Would you like to do the honors?”

“Can I?” That’s a mighty big responsibility to be handed. He looks at the Corvisquire. “Would you like that?”

He receives an enthusiastic squawk in return.

“A name, huh…” Hop closes his eyes, pensive.

It has to be fitting. Something unique. Something to describe him in a single word, to encapsulate all that he is.

Something meaningful. Something to show he meant something to Hop.

His little delivery bird. His helper. His first partner in a way. One who brought him his mum’s letters, the clues to the overarching mystery that is his family.

The one ‘mon who listened to his ramblings about them, be they bitter and sorrowful or confused and frustrated.

His assistant in his investigations.

His partner…in his investigations…over the mysteries his mother kept from him...

“…Watson.” Hop murmurs, repeating it more confidently the following moment. “ _Watson_.”

“Watson.” The professor repeats, lips quirking. “I quite like it.”

“Do you?” Hop asks the Corvisquire.

He looks at Hop for a moment.

Then, he clamps his beak down on his finger.

“ _Can I take that as a yes_?” Hop squeaks, nursing his hand against his chest. Watson nods fervently, jumping around with excitement. “Let’s get you out there, then.”

And that is how Hop releases his good friend Watson into the endless blue skies, one sunny and warm morning, joined by the professor in her backyard.

To say he cries buckets is an understatement, not that the professor comments on it. She stands by him, a comforting hand on his shoulder as they watch the bird disappear into the horizon, never once looking back.

Maybe the universe would bring them together again one day. Maybe not. Either way, Hop wishes his friend well from the very bottom of his heart. Wherever he winds up, whatever adventures, pokémon, and people he meets, let them be for his betterment. Let them guide him forward.

Watson’s job is done here.

It’s up to Hop to make sure his efforts weren't in vain.

* * *

Hop spends the rest of the day in the professor’s home, which turns out to be a rather pleasant decision on account of both Sonia and Oleana trudging down the stairs eventually, the latter revealing herself to be on an overnight visit.

“I’ve taken your advice to heart.” She tells him, hair done up in a messy bun, dressed in a baggy tracksuit, thick frame glasses on her face, nursing a cup of coffee. This is the Oleana he remembers, although the one he saw at the party in the Rondelands is just as nice. “It’s done me well. I wasn’t aware of how homesick I really was.”

“It creeps up on ya, huh?” Hop replies, cradling her Trubbish (aptly named Muffin for her inclination towards them) to his chest. She shyly returns his affections.

“Definitely.” Oleana sighs. “In retrospect, it seems silly. What point is there to overworking if there’s no place to return to afterwards?”

“Not much.” Hop agrees, squishing his cheek against Muffin’s. She’s soft and smells like vanilla. He could cuddle her all day. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Thanks to you.” Her smile is minute but existent all the same. Hop returns it.

“Is this your new pal?” Sonia asks, taking a seat at the table as well. She points to his egg. “Way cuter in person. Any idea what they’ll hatch into?”

“Not a clue.”

“Judging by the color, maybe a water type?” Sonia theorizes. “Not that color plays much of a role in pokébabies.”

“I wouldn’t mind a Kyogre.” One dream fulfilled if that were the case, Hop thinks.Although, where exactly to house them would pose an immediate problem. Even if they sell tanks that big, Hop could not in good conscience keep them confined, nor request Raihan remodel his entire castle into a fully functioning aquarium. Releasing them would be the only reasonable course of action to take.

“Nessa would have a field day with that.” Sonia remarks with a laugh. "Any thoughts, Ollie?”

“Something peculiar.” Oleana says after a moment of thought. “The consistency of the shell is odd. Atypical.”

Hop _did_ note it was a lot thicker than any of the eggs he’s seen, and somewhat translucent in certain lighting.

“What about you, gran?” Sonia tips her head back. “Any hypotheses to bestow upon us young folk?”

“Why hypothesize when the reveal holds more impact otherwise?” The professor walks over and pinches Sonia’s nose, to which she whines. “Honestly, you young folk could stand to have a more romantic viewpoint. Where’s the fun in calculating everything to the last decimal?”

“Stability, self-assuredness, and avoiding destruction of company property via unplanned self-destruction of experimental engineering.” Oleana blandly supplies.

“The illusion of security and safety within a vicious and uncaring reality.” Sonia offers, her voice nasally.

“The difference between a one-hundred and a ninety-nine point two on an exam.” Hop adds. Not that he was bitter about it. No way. He didn’t want the one-hundred percent sticker anyway.

Magnolia sighs at their responses.

“Perhaps retirement is too far off a dream for me after all.”

After breakfast, Hop ends up lazing around with Sonia and Oleana, who do his hair and paint his nails a pretty sunset orangey-pink color while discussing Professor Sycamore’s latest paper on mega-evolution until they get tired of arguing over the specifics and settle on watching a trashy reality telly program, where he winds up rooting for the brunette underdog to take home the prize money rather than the romantic love interest because, apparently, she’s planning on opening an accessory shop in Motostoke with it and Hop can never have too many places to go purchase more accessories for the sake of Mordred’s endless desire to be the cutest Haxorus in the world.

Also, maybe his little peanut would appreciate it. Maybe they’d like accessories, too. Hop would have to ask.

“Say Eevee!” Sonia says, snapping a picture of the three of them hunched over various bowls of snacks and drinks. “We look _adorable_. Mind if I post it?”

“No.”

“Nope.”

“Ace.”

They spend their time like that until the afternoon, when Hop takes a look at the clock and realizes he’s spent far more time here than intended. Not that it was wasted, but for some odd reason he was confident in the incredibly flimsy assumption that he could stop by the professor’s home and be back in Hammerlocke before Leon and Raihan realized he was gone.

They didn’t think there was anything weird about him staying in his room until five in the afternoon, right?

 _Right_?

 _i am so dead_ , Hop thinks with dread, gathering his egg in the safe and optimal carrying case provided to him by the professor. None of the three had asked whether he was here with permission, probably because they _assumed_ he was, because that’s what responsible people do they let their guardians know where they’re headed and don’t just _disappear out of the blu_ e.

Raihan’s going to be _livid_.

And _Leon_ —

Well, maybe he could talk his way out of a scolding with him. Get him to convince Raihan it’s not such a big deal.

Yeah, _no chance_.

“Before you go.” The professor stops him as he’s about to head out, handing over a sealed envelope. “The last one of the bunch I’m afraid. She wasn’t able to write anymore.”

Hop reads the names scrawled hastily on the front.

_hop & leon_

A letter for both of them? That’s certainly new.

“And one more thing.” Professor Magnolia slips a small object out of her pocket, holding it out to him.

“This is…” Hop takes it from her, eyebrows rising. “…the house key?”

She nods.

“Your mother wanted to sell everything off and leave you with the profits, though nothing was ever put into writing. She insisted I make arrangements for it, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It’s your home, Hop. If anyone should have a say in what becomes of it, it’s you.”

“Am I allowed to keep it?” He’s only _ten_. Somehow, he doesn’t think children are seen as very good property owners by the government.

“Legally, it falls to your brother, as he is her next of kin.” Magnolia explains. “Although, I’m sure you two can work out the details.”

“We'll manage.” Hop pauses, clutching the key to his chest. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Professor.”

What would he and his mother have done without her? She’s done so much for them over the years when she didn’t owe them a thing. Without her, his mother would have suffered in silence and Hop would have been none the wiser to everything that went on before his birth.

She was his mother’s closest friend until the very end. Unfortunate as it is, Hop doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to properly express his gratitude.

“You’re very welcome, dear.” She smiles, a grandmotherly aura shining through her cool and collected professor persona. “Stop by whenever you like. We’re always happy to have you. Send Leon our regards and tell him to tag along next time. It’s been so long.”

“Haha.” Hop laughs nervously. “Of course.”

After another round of farewells from Sonia and Oleana, Hop sprints towards the station, already machinating a number of excuses to dampen Raihan’s fury. When he reaches the crossroads however, he stops short, sneakers scraping against the stone pathway beneath his feet.

The wind blows past him, ruffling his fringe, strands of hair brushing against his forehead.

The quaint little bridge connecting Wedgehurst and route one is still as mossy as ever, vines curling around the aged stone, flowers sprouting from scattered buds. The distant sound of wooloo and miltank cries reach his ears. 

A wave of nostalgia hits him.

For all the sadder memories of his life here, there were equally as happier ones. If his mum was still around, if things were different, Hop doesn’t doubt he’d still be here, without plans to move anywhere else. He likes Hammerlocke just fine. Likes its history and its castle and how it's welcomed him with open arms at his lowest point.

And yet, part of Hop would always remain in the green pastures and idyllic peaceful afternoons of the Galarian countryside.

It’s where he and his mother lived. Together. Where they were relatively happy, if only for a short while.

In his hand, the key gifted to him weighs heavily. Different from the one that hangs around his neck, though no less valuable. No less of a treasure.

Hop knows he can’t let this rest.

Not just yet.

Deciding he’s already in deep enough hot water, Hop heads down route one, past the fields, past the small cottages, avoiding notice and ducking around trees and hills when necessary. It’s rude and he should probably make an effort to greet the neighbors who showed he and his mother courtesy, but he’s not in much a mood for making conversation with them. He doubts he can offer them much in the way of pleasantries when he still feels slightly as off balance as he felt when he arrived earlier that day.

The fork at the end of the road makes him pause.

A glance to the right presents the Slumbering Weald. He’s almost tempted to head there instead, his more rational side preventing such a rash course of action. His explorations into the forested area never brought up much besides greenery and fog, despite all his instincts telling him there was more to be found beyond the flimsy gate meant to ward intruders away.

It’s not the time. Perhaps one day he would have a proper reason to venture further. Would be brave enough to keep going and not turn back at the thought of his mother finding out and scolding him for it.

Not today.

Hop takes the left path.

“Look peanut. This is where I used to live.” He says, unhooking the rotted, wooden gate. His mother always spoke about replacing it. Getting it fixed up. Hop planned on getting around to it eventually in an attempt to pitch in more. He never did.

The stairs leading up to the porch are rickety, creaking in all the same spots, chipped and peeling from where he picked at them while he waited for Sonia to turn up for their lessons or for the rain to pass.

The porch swing rocks gently along with the breeze, its chains tinkling along with the old wind chime still hanging from the roof.

“Mum and I used to sit here sometimes.” Hop runs a hand along the arms. They’re slightly damp. Recent rain, perhaps. “When it was sunny. She liked gardening, but she got sick in the heat easily. We would take breaks here when that happened.”

Speaking of gardening, Hop glances at all the overgrown bushes and flowers lining the front of the house. A few months of overgrowth will do that. He doesn’t want to imagine what the backyard must look like.

Turning his attention back to the house, Hop takes a deep breath, holding up the key. He pushes back the screen door and with little difficult, unlocks the door, shoving it open with his shoulder. Another renovation left unfinished.

What he’s met with on the inside shouldn’t be surprising, but his heart drops all the same.

Empty.

No furnishings, no nothing.

Empty.

He already knew that though. Everything was packed and ready to be sold off the day he left for Hammerlocke. He saw it with his own eyes. Helped with the process even, thinking that the house would be done away with in much the same fashion.

And still, it hurts. The pain has dulled but it still _hurts_.

“This is the sitting room.” Hop says, walking into the room that once hosted a sofa, loveseat and a telly. It’s almost as if he’s dreaming. Like he's walked into some odd reality where everything and everyone is gone, leaving him to wander around, confused and dazed and scared for what that may mean.

Hop isn’t scared though. He was before, but not anymore. He knows better now. Knows a home is only worth as much as the people in it. Wherever he and his mother chose to sit as she spun silly tales of adventure never mattered. Whatever was on the telly didn’t matter. The color or shape or quality of the rug or drapes or coffee table never mattered.

It wasn’t about that. It never was.

“We spent a lot of time here.” He circles around the hardwood floor, running his hands over the windows, grimacing when he pulls away with dust. It’s definitely been a while. While the urge to drop everything to start cleaning nags at him, Hop represses it. There’s no point in sprucing the place up if he’s only going to leave.

Being here again is taking enough effort as it is. If he’s ever to properly return, he wants to do it in high spirits, with an attack plan and motivation.

Their next stop is the kitchen, lacking any of the appliances he used to bustle around when he helped his mum fix her dining travesties or prepared meals on his own to bring up to her bedroom.

“I used to spend a lot of time here, too. I cooked mostly everything, since mum was terrible at it. Before that, the professor used to drop off meals for us.” How else would they have survived as long as they did?

“I’m okay at it.” Hop continues, resisting the urge to run his hands all over the dirty countertops. "What I make is usually edible. I don’t know, I like cooking stuff. Raihan doesn’t let me do it much anymore ‘cause he’s scared I’ll burn myself. I don’t really get that since he’s burned himself more times than I ever have, but I guess he’s worried. That's fine. It doesn’t make a difference to me. I wouldn’t mind him letting me help occasionally though. He’s still really bad with over-spicing and over-salting.”

Hop is aware it’s odd to be having a one-sided conversation with his unhatched partner. The incubating capsule doesn’t allow for him to feel those faint pulses of energy like he does back in his room when he’s holding them, giving the illusion of a response. He wants to believe they’re following along despite that. It feels a lot less silly if it’s true.

The rest of the tour takes them upstairs. Hop pointedly avoids going into his mother’s room. There’s retracing familiar ground and then there’s purposely tearing open a grievous wound and allowing himself to bleed out all over again.

He just…he can’t do that. For the same reason he cannot bring himself to visit her grave, he refuses to open the door _where_ _she_ —

Hop can’t.

He _does_ go into his old bedroom though.

It’s bare and stripped of any personality. Devoid of any life. Of any of his belongings.

The place where he used to sleep and do his work and hide away from his mother whenever they argued over the pettiest of trifles isn’t really here anymore. It’s like he’s dreaming about a reality that isn’t quite his. Like he’s stepped into a parallel universe where he isn’t himself and instead an outside observer looking in on a house that isn’t his own and a room he never lived in.

It’s not his anymore. Not in the ways that matter.

Hop walks over to the window, cracking it open.

Outside, time continues to tick on, a starch contrast to how grey and dull everything looks on the inside of his childhood home, as if everything has stalled to a complete halt, content to preserve memories that no longer exist within its lifeless halls.

Because the house isn’t what birthed them. The house isn’t the reason they happened in the first place.

 _Hop is_. And his mother. His father and his brother, too.

It’s just an empty house now. A shell.

That’s all it is.

Placing his hands on the window sill, Hop lurches forward, climbing through the frame with ease. He hasn’t grown all that much since he left, disappointingly enough. All that milk drinking isn’t getting him any closer to being as tall as Raihan or as big as Leon.

A few practiced motions later and he’s hauling himself onto the roof, taking in the view beyond the fields devoid of any wooloo. An endless sea of green grass and golden grain stretch beyond the confines of the cottage, the blue sky complimenting it via contrast.

“Not the same as the stadium, but this was enough at the time.” Hop murmurs. From high up, he has a clear view of the backyard. Messy, but it could be worse. In clear need of a lawn mowing.

Hop can’t recall how much time he spent here, past his bedtime, staring up at the sky as if it could provide him answers he wasn’t aware he needed in the first place. Whether he was restless and couldn’t sleep or simply searching for a place where he didn’t have to exist as Hop, the sissy and the pansy and the mummy’s boy who was easy to beat down because he never fought back. Who’s brother left because he didn’t want to be associated with someone as pathetic as him.

He can’t count the amount of times he laid here, believing every nasty thing ever said about him. Wondering why he couldn’t be more than he was. Wondering if the universe could swallow him up and take him somewhere nicer. Kinder. Somewhere he could be Hop, the boy who loved his mummy and had a brother who remembered him and maybe a father who hadn’t left before he could properly know him.

Things have changed.

Hop is trying not to believe the worst of himself, trying to view his mother as a person and not a deity, his brother as a friend and not a monster.

And his father…

He’s still not quite sure what to make of him.

A flash of magenta light flickers across the edge of his vision.

Hop looks up, eyes widening as another streak races across the sky, followed by another and then another, until the entire sky is alit with burning, fluorescent pink, leaving behind trails of white stardust.

“A wishing star shower.” He whispers, watching the twinkling lights fall to the Earth. “Scones was right.”

Talk about lucky. The most he’s ever seen is the tail end of one and the specimens the professor kept in her lab. An entire shower was rare in and of itself.

“Guess that means our wishes will come true. Or dreams, I guess.” Hop says, cradling the carrier against his chest.

Not that he has any dream he’s particularly eager to achieve. If there’s anything he envies Marnie for, it’s her drive to reach the top. While the role of champion is far from glamorous, Hop can’t help but admire her dedication to toppling his brother in order to take it for herself. Although, he would be lying if he said he was looking forward to that moment. What it would mean for both of them worries him. The time between now and then worries him.

How long would Leon have to endure it? Endure them chaining him down for a profit and pulling his strings any which way they want, all because of a stupid piece of paper.

He wishes he could ask.

“ _Hop_!”

Startled at the sudden sound of his name being bellowed, Hop’s head snaps up.

Through the downpour of wishing stars, a familiar, orange form darts forward. Upon their back, a burgundy shape shifts, the straps hooked around them fluttering in the wind, unattached from the Pokémon’s saddle.

“ _Leon_ —” Hop barely manages to utter his brother’s name before he’s leaping off Arthur’s back and plummeting towards the roof to the backdrop of pretty pink lights.

In any other situation, Hop might’ve likened the sight to that of a scene in an action movie, where the hero makes a daring escape or bombastic appearance.

The problem is, Leon doesn’t look pleased and seeing as Hop is well aware of his error in judgment earlier that day, he can’t really blame him.

He lands upon the roof with a grunt, barely reacting to landing from such a ridiculous height. Arthur swoops in shortly after, looking equally as stern as he hovers above his trainer. Hop’s tempted to suggest it as a future trainer card pose, but then Leon looks him in the eye, and he decides it's in his best interest not to make anything worse.

“You should have said something.” Leon cuts straight to the point. “You shouldn’t have left without saying anything.”

Hop winces.

“I know.”

“I know you know. You did it anyway.”

“I know. I mean—I _know_.”

Leon regards him grimly for one very extended, tense moment before his shoulders slump, a sigh escaping him.

“I know.” He echoes. “I know you know. I’m not mad. I get it. Just let us know next time.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Okay.” Leon nods, glancing around. “Been a while, huh?”

“Not since then.”

“Yeah. It’s weird.”

“Really?”

“A little.” Leon shields his eyes from the sun. “Feels like I’ve been coming back for all the wrong reasons lately.”

“I wasn’t planning on coming back.” Hop admits. “I was going to the station until…I don’t know. I saw the road back and thought it was a good idea. I’m not sure if it was.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really feel any better.”

“Me neither.” Leon plops down, stretching his legs, returning Arthur to his pokéball. Oh no. That must mean a serious chat is incoming. “Feel a little sick honestly. Don’t think I’d have come back if it weren’t for you.”

“How’d you know I was here anyway?” Hop sits beside him, slipping on his egg carrier backpack. The last thing he wants is them falling off the _roof_.

“Big brother intuition.” Leon offers as an explanation. “Woulda gotten here way sooner if the weather wasn’t so bad in the wilds. Had to wait out a thunder _and_ sandstorm with Arthur.” He points at his damp sweatshirt, grains of sand matted onto the fabric. “Figured you’d be here. Somewhere high up, yeah?”

“That could’ve been anywhere.”

“You don’t go _just_ _anywhere_ , Hop.”

“I wasn’t even planning on being here.”

“But you are, aren’t you?” Leon raises an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t plan on it, but you ended up here anyway.”

“Are you trying to brag about your 'big brother intuition’?”

“Yes.”

Hop huffs, drawing his knees to his chest. Is he really that obvious?

They sit in silence for a few minutes, both staring blankly at the ongoing spectacle before them.

“I asked the professor.” Hop says, eventually. “About everything.”

“Any conclusions?”

“That we’re all really messed up.” There’s no other way to put it. They’re the perfect example of a mucked up family. All selfishness, pain, and cowardice. “No wonder one of us is dead, one is missing, and the last two need therapy.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“How else would you describe it?”

“One is resting, one is bumming around, and the last two are trying to pick up the pieces.”

“Are we doing a good job?”

“Depends. Should the ‘ _it’s been blank amount of days since leon’s made hop run away_ ’ counter be included in our calculations?”

“I’d laugh if that wasn’t sad.”

“I’d laugh if it didn’t make me want to cry.” Leon jokes weakly, his tone more self-depreciative than comical. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be more normal.”

“Define normal.” Hop’s pretty sure that’s a relative term. “Even if we were, we wouldn’t be. Not us.”

“True enough.”

They fall into silence again.

Hop uses the time to gather his thoughts. He knows what he should say first.

It isn’t his apology to make, but he feels it must be done.

“I’m sorry mum said those things to you.” He says quietly. “She shouldn’t have, no matter how upset she was. A-And I’m sorry, too. For blaming you and for making everything your fault when it wasn’t. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“If I don’t, then who will?” Hop grimaces. “Not everything has to be your fault.”

“Part of it is. I should have come back.”

“She made you leave.”

“She didn’t make me do anything. I didn’t come back of my own volition. I could have, but I didn’t.”

“Because she insulted you.”

“She only insulted me because I was being a brat.” Leon takes his cap off, running his fingers over the brim. “If I made an effort to listen to what she had to say, I would have stuck around. I wouldn’t have defended him every single time.”

“You love him.”

“You love _her_.” Leon looks at him. “Y’know, it’s not like I hated her. I never have. I was angry, yeah, but that’s as far as it went. She treated me well. Was a decent mum. Maybe not super affectionate and a little distant, but until then, she never said a negative word to me. I don’t know if I took it as her showing her true colors or what, but it…hit me hard when she said all that. What, my dad’s gone all the time and now my mum is telling me everything I don’t want to hear? That’s why I left. I could have come back, but I kept thinking…what if she meant it? What if she meant everything she said? What if I showed up and she didn’t want anything to do with me? And you…I didn’t want—I thought the same. What if you didn’t want me around anymore? What if you hated me?” He chuckles caustically. “I mean, you _did_. I was right about that. Thought it’d be the same with her and now I’ll never know, because she’s gone. I can’t even _try_ anymore, because she’s _gone_.”

Gone.

The finality of it is no less painful to Hop than it is for Leon. At the very least, he’s received some sense of closure, however difficult the road that lies ahead seems. Leon hasn’t been granted that same luxury. She’s gone, and there’s nothing either of them can do about it. All Hop has left are his memories and the letters—

The letter.

Carefully, Hop takes out the final envelope, the last one he’ll ever be receiving, and holds it out to his brother.

Leon eyes it with confusion.

“What’s this?” He asks, accepting with no small amount of trepidation.

“A letter. From mum.” Hop explains. “She’s been sending me them for a while. That’s the last one. It’s got your name on it. I haven’t read it yet, but it’s not like we’re doing anything else right now. Read it out.”

“I can’t do that. This is _yours_.” Leon offers it back. “They were for you. She was just being nice. It’s not really for me. Here, take it—“

“ _Read_ _it_ , Leon.” Hop pushes his hand away. “I don’t know what it says. I don’t know if it’ll just make things worse, but I think you should read it anyway.”

“But it’s—“

“ _Both of ours_.” Hop replies earnestly. “Read it, please. I want to know what it says.”

Leon hesitates, looking between him and the envelope.

Finally, he brings himself to tear the seal, taking the letter out. Hop leans over to read along. From a quick glance, it’s far shorter than many of the rest, the writing messy and hasty, as if it was rushed last minute.

Leon clears his throat and begins to read.

_to my dearest sons_

_hello. how are you both? well i hope. as for me, i can’t say the same. that’s a given though._

_i’m gone i’m sure. i don’t think i’ve come to terms with it quite yet, but it’s inevitable and as such, i will accept my fate, however lonely and bereft of joy it is._

_perhaps it’s presumptuous of me to assume you are together. let’s call it your mummy’s last and final wish. a gamble yes, but at the edge of the world, it’s a worthwhile one to make._

_wherever you two find yourselves, i hope you’ve managed to unite in a way i never allowed for. if i could turn back time, i would, if only for the sake of ensuring neither of you would have ever had to part ways._

_all i ever wanted was for you two to be together. for my litleo to have a brother to coddle and for my hoppip to have a brother to coddle him._

_i’m sorry things turned out the way they did. i’m sorry your mother was too cowardly to set things right._

_i’m sorry i wasn’t a very good mummy._

_but if there’s anything i want both of you to know, it’s that i love you two so very very much. i always have. that will never change. no matter how much time passes, no matter how much either of you grow and change into the bright young men i know you’ll become._

_you will always be my precious boys._

_i’ll try to be concise here. i’m sorry for the rush, but simply holding this pen is a challenge._

_to my sweet hero prince. my loveliest of flowers and brightest of stars._

_my little hop._

_i know the_ **_LHHGBOHFP_ ** _fell to the wayside. i know i’ve failed you in a number of ways. i know you weren’t as happy as you could have been, no matter how desperately i wished for you to be. i know mummy owes you so very much, but she can only ask that you place it on her tab for the next time we meet. she’ll pay you back everything and more._

_for now, i hope you keep moving forward. keep being the brilliant boy you are. no matter what anybody says, no matter how scary or hopeless things seem, keep moving forward. if there’s anybody who can reach past the stars, it’s you._

_i love you so very much. more than you can ever imagine. you’ll always be in my heart. i hope you can set aside some room in yours for me. mummy doesn’t take up much space._

_to my sweet litleo. my sun and moon. my brave adventurer. my prince of hearts._

_i know it’s not my place to say any of these things, but i want you to know that there’s never been a day where you haven’t been in my thoughts. no matter how far you went, no matter how many days passed us by, i always thought of you. i always hoped you were doing well. hoped you were safe and sound, happy and content. i still do. i always will._

_i hope you can find happiness wherever you go. i hope you find people who cherish you. people who respect and acknowledge all of the wonderful things that you are._

_i want you to know that i’m sorry for everything i’ve done. i’m sorry for being cruel to you. i’m sorry for causing you pain. i’m sorry for not doing enough for you. i’m so sorry. so very sorry._

_but most of all, i want you to know that i love you. i always have. i always will. no matter what’s happened between us, no matter what we’ve said to one another, i adore you as i adore your brother._

_for that reason, please consider any pending arguments or confrontations paid in full. there’s no need to feel guilty nor remorseful over anything. if there’s ever a time you are under the impression that you need to seek forgiveness, consider yourself forgiven._

_i know you, leon. i know there’ll come a point where you think shouldering the blame of everything is only right. that it’s your burden and responsibility to bear. it’s not. you are not at fault. your foolish parents are. we should have never placed you in a position where you felt the need to take a side. we should have been open. we should have spoken to you about it more maturely._

_i’m sorry, my sweet litleo. i’m so sorry. if she’s ever given the joy and pleasure of being your mother again, mummy promises to be better next time._

_hop, my little warrior of light, be kinder to yourself. you’ve always been your own worst enemy. learn to be your greatest ally. love yourself a little more. it’s actually quite easy. i speak from experience._

_and leon, you ridiculous force of nature, forge your own path. be your own person. nothing and nobody has ever been or will ever be able to contend with you. use that to your advantage and break free of anyone who wishes to hold you down. you are deserving of so much more than a gilded cage._

_hand’s shaking. can’t write much more. end with this._

_leon, take care of your brother. make sure he’s well. hop, you do the same. rely on each other. listen to each other. trust each other._

_and please, never stop believing in each other._

_with hugs kisses and many well wishes,_

_mummy_

Leon’s voice cracks at the last word, his shoulders and hands trembling.

“ _Mum_.” He chokes out, eyes glistening with tears. He turns his body away from Hop, burying his face in his hands, soft hiccups escaping him despite his obvious attempts to stifle them. “ _Mum_.”

Hop isn’t sure if any attempts at comfort will be welcome. He’s seen Leon become emotional approximately one time and that was when both of them were experiencing extreme emotional duress. Even then, he was the one being comforted, not Leon.

This isn’t like that at all.

Leon is crying like a child who’s ashamed of being caught.

Acting more on instinct than logic, Hop drapes himself across his brother's back, clasping his hands around his wrists. Not the most comfortable of embraces, but given Leon clearly doesn’t want to be seen, it’ll have to do.

Leon tenses for a brief moment, continuing to whimper quietly, hunched over the letter. Hop rests his cheek atop the crown of his head, closing his eyes.

There’s nothing else he can do. Their mother is gone. They’re going to have to deal with the fallout of that from here on out, just as they’ve been doing all these days gone past.

At the very least, they won’t be doing it on their own.

They remain like that, until Leon’s barely audible sobs dwindle to sniffles and his body isn’t shaking quite as violently, the occasional shudder wracking him. He shakily tucks the letter back into its envelope, casting it to the side.

“You have more of those?” He asks, voice nasally and muffled into the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Including the one from yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“And you read them all?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.” Hop replies. Tolerance build up maybe. “They upset me sometimes, but I liked them. They made it feel like she was still around. Like I was away on a trip and she was sending them to keep me company while I was gone.”

“That’s a nice way to look at it.”

“I guess.”

“When we get back…” Leon pauses, releasing a shaky breath. “When we get back, would you mind if I read the other ones?”

“No. Unless they’re embarrassing. Then yes.”

Leon chuckles at that.

Aware that it’s a bit overkill, Hop pats his head for good measure.

He snorts.

“What? Am I a Yamper to you?”

“No. You’re a Charizard man.” Hop corrects, tugging at the goofy tufts of hair sticking out the sides of his head. “I bet if you flapped these, you could fly like one.”

“Would I be faster than Arthur?”

“Probably. You’re usually good at everything.”

“That’s only partially true.”

“What a modest savior.” Hop scoffs, falling silent. There’s a question nagging at him. Now that his brother isn’t actively sobbing, it seems a good enough moment to ask. “Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No.” Leon answers plainly. “Doesn’t keep a phone on him. The only times I ever see him are when he pops up in Wyndon. It’s always random.”

“Why does he do that?”

“That’s how he’s always been. He’s a ‘live off the land’ type of vagrant. Phones cramp his style.”

“Not as if it’s a useful utility…” Hop mumbles, another question striking him. “Wait, does that mean he doesn’t…know?”

“ _I_ haven’t told him.” Leon informs him wearily. “Can’t exactly break the news if I can’t get into contact with him. Haven’t had much luck tracking him down.”

“Would he even want to know?”

“He would.” Leon answers immediately. “He definitely would, which is why I’m not looking forward to telling him.”

Hop considers pursuing that line of conversation.

He doesn’t. Talking about their father is tiresome enough. He doesn’t know whether he wants to seek him out to converse civilly over his failings as a parent or toss him into one of those famous Alolan volcanoes.

Not that Leon would be happy about that second option. Hop would rather avoid upsetting him.

“Maybe you’ll see him again when you go back to Wyndon.” Hop grumbles. He doesn’t intend on sounding like a petulant child, but the edge to his tone is undeniable.

However, rather than being met with an exasperated explanation on the importance of following through with ones duties, Hop nearly goes flying off the roof at the speed with which Leon whips around to face him.

“ _Shoot_.” Leon hauls him back by the wrist. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

“Somehow.” Hop sits down again, planting his feet firmly on the roof tiles. “Is peanut okay?”

“Golden.” Leon smiles. It’s only slightly off put by his red rimmed eyes. “Is that the name you’ve decided on?”

“It’s a placeholder.” There are a few he’s considering. Nothing concrete as of yet. He wants to make sure he picks a name that suits them. Until they’re born, he can’t be sure. “‘cause they’re small. Anyway, is there a reason I almost met up with mum again?”

“Can you not joke like that?” Leon gives him a stern look. “It’s morbid.”

“It’s a defense mechanism.”

“Find a better one.” His brother deadpans, eyes lighting up comically seconds later. “But you’re right. There _is_ a reason. I wanted to tell you yesterday about, um, about Wyndon.”

“What about it?” Here it is. Here’s where he tells Hop he’s leaving in a day’s time and has decided to ship him off to boarding school because he’s a misguided youth who needs discipline.

“Y’see…” Leon scratches his cheek sheepishly. “The thing about Wyndon is…I’m not going back.”

Hop blinks.

Did he hear that right?

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not going back.” Leon repeats, this time more confidently. “I might have to make a few trips for business and legal stuff, but for the most part, effective following this year’s Champion Cup, I’m officially retiring.”

Retiring.

Leon is…retiring?

What?

“ _What_?” Hop blurts out, confused beyond belief. He was expecting a variety of different outcomes to this conversation. His brother stepping down was never one of them. “You’re _retiring_?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s—You _can’t_!”

“Why not?”

“You love battling!” Hop exclaims. Did this even require explaining? It was obvious! “You can’t just give that up!”

“I never said I was.” Leon replies calmly. “Me not being champion doesn’t mean I have to stop battling. I don’t need to be champion to keep taking on strong opponents. The League was happy to feed me that as a reason to stick around whenever I complained to them about anything and I believed them. I shouldn’t have.” He clenches his fists. “Now, I _know_ it isn’t true. Never has been. All they wanted was to keep me under their thumb and I…I _can’t_ let them do that anymore. I refuse. Galar is more than Wyndon. _I’m_ more than just a walking advertisement and I…I want to _show_ that. I want to show everyone that I can be _more_ than just a puppet. That I _want_ to be more.”

“But wasn’t being champion your dream?” Hop can hardly believe he’s arguing this matter in the first place, but his brother’s been champion for _ten whole years_. It was his dream, wasn’t it? To make it to the top? To be seen by their father?

Leon shakes his head, a wistful smile overtaking his lips.

“I told you part of why I wanted to make it that far was for our dad, but that’s not the entire truth. My real dream, the one I forgot about for a very long time, has _always_ been for Galar to have the strongest trainers in the world. When dad would tell me about all the amazing people he met on the rode, ones that pushed him to his limits, it made me wonder what it’d be like if _we_ had people like that. If Galar, my _home_ , could have the best of the best. If we could take the world by storm and have every other region look to us as an example for a proper champion time. _That’s_ what I wanted.” He looks away. “And I forgot. Got caught up in the League’s agenda and making sure they were pleased that I forgot what I wanted, where I was headed, and who I was, because selling my image was more important than anything I did on the pitch.”

“I don’t want to go back to that.” Leon admits to him. “I don’t want to be a dress up doll. I want to be a trainer. I want to battle. I want Galar to battle and be the best and I want to do what I can to help in other ways too, but I can’t do any of that if I stick around Wyndon Stadium.”

“Th-Then what _will_ you do?” Hop inquires, processing everything piece by piece. “If you’re not champion or with the League or any of that, what does that mean?”

“It means—” Leon swipes the discarded letter, holding it between two fingers. “I listen to my mum and start forging my own path. If I hate how they do it up in Wyndon, that just means I have to make my own place to battle.”

“Your own place?”

“Hammerlocke Stadium.” Leon begins, a sly grin overtaking his lips. “Any thoughts on battle castles, kiddo?”

“B-Battle castle?” Hop stammers. “How can you—But isn’t—You want to turn the stadium into your own place to battle?”

“Hey, if Kalos can have their Battle Maison, Alola their Battle Tree, and every other region their Battle _Whatever_ , Galar has a right to a Battle _Castle_.”

“But the stadium isn’t _yours_! It’s _Raihan’s_!”

“And Raihan’s one-hundred percent on board.” Leon huffs out a laugh. “This isn’t coming out of nowhere, Hop.We’ve been talking about this for a long time, since way before he took us in. We think the time’s finally right.”

“What’ll happen to Hammerlocke Gym though? And the gym circuit? A-And what about Raihan? If there’s no more gym, doesn’t that mean he won’t be a gym leader anymore? Doesn’t that bother him?”

“There’re plenty of talented folk in the minors to consider for promotion.” Leon waves off that particular concern. “As for Raihan, do you want to hear what he said to me, in _his own words_ , when I asked that exact same question?” With no small amount of exaggeration, Leon clears his throat. His impression is so spot on, it sends Hop into a fit of giggles. “‘ _Lee, I love attention. My own battle castle? Where everyone will be clawing their way up for the honor of facing the Great and Almighty Raihan himself? It’s a fuckin’ no brainer, mate. Hell yeah._ ’ He also mentioned something about designing his own merch, which is another plus I guess.”

“And this’ll be completely independent of the League?”

“In a sense.” Leon shrugs. “I had to get the chairman in on it. His main concern is always Galar, and since he’s certain it’ll bring in a lot of good publicity, revenue, and offer an alternative during the off season, he allowed me most of my concessions, including keeping the Wyndon boneheads out of it and relinquishing all decision making power to me and Rai.”

“That was nice of him.”

“He’s a valuable ally to have. Helps that he likes a good battle every so often, too. Pretty sure we’ll be seeing him around when everything’s set up.” Leon sighs heavily. “Which is going to take a while. Fair warning, we’re probably going to have to move out for a bit when construction picks up.”

“Is the entire stadium being remodeled?”

“Basically. Rai’s using it as an opportunity to give everything a new look. He’s got this whole aesthetic in mind.” Leons shakes his head fondly. “I’m leaving it all to him. I don’t mind what it looks like as long as we get to battle.”

Hop nods, contemplating his hands for a few moments. This is good news certainly. The iron ball that settled upon his chest at the mere thought of Leon running off to pick up his mantle again finally disappears, his shoulders slumping in relief. All that worrying only for Leon to turn around and do what he wanted in the end.

Which is not to go back. It’s to stay and walk his own path.

He almost wants to cry.

“I-I thought…” Hop begins quietly, hesitantly. “I thought you were gonna go back. I was worried about it.”

“You could have talked to me.”

“I was scared of what you would say.”

“Did you think I’d leave again?”

Hop doesn’t respond. It’s enough of an answer for Leon, who scoots closer and rests an arm over his shoulders, tucking Hop against his side.

“I’m not leaving.” He reassures him gently. “Not anymore. As long as you want me around, I’ll do anything to make sure we don’t have to be apart.”

“You better.” Hop sniffles, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Or I’m going to tell Raihan and he’s going to maim you.”

“I’ll keep my word.”

“That’s not enough.” Hop holds his pinky out. “You’ve gotta pinky promise on it or it doesn’t count.”

Leon grins.

“You’ve got it!”

They pinky promise, swearing on their brotherly honor to hold each other to it.

To their words. To their dreams. To their promises.

To everything.

* * *

Raihan is hunched over the stove when they get back.

Hop isn’t under the impression he hasn’t heard them enter. His back is tense, the way his fingers are twitching over the ladle he’s holding giving him away. His attention is focused solely on the large pot of curry in front of him, never straying.

He isn’t humming, isn’t listening to any music at all.

He's quiet.

He's waiting.

Leon settles a hand on his back.

‘Go’ he mouths at him, expression encouraging.

Hop would really rather not.

He would much rather hide in his room and wait for Raihan’s outrage to blow over and act like he didn’t do something rash and irresponsible _again_.

Except, he’s not a coward. He’s already decided that isn’t something he’s going to be anymore. Cowards run away.

Hop won’t. He can’t. Not when he’s at fault and not when he’s worried someone dear to him.

Taking a deep breath, he crosses the threshold, stopping when only a few feet separate them. Raihan has stopped stirring at this point, but he hasn’t openly acknowledged him yet.

Hop shoots a nervous glance over his shoulder. Leon flashes him a thumbs up.

Swallowing thickly, Hop speaks.

“Um…Raihan?”

He inclines his head. He’s listening.

“I, um, I know I did that thing again. Where I, uh, do something without thinking and it upsets you. I can’t say I didn’t mean to, because I did it anyway, even when I know better. I shouldn’t have left like that and worried you and Leon, even if I was upset. I-I should have called or…something and—“ He wrings his wrists, not sure why he's rambling. What’s the point of beating around the bush? “I-I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking and you don’t have to forgive me but I’m…I’m really _really_ sorry.”

Raihan doesn’t react. Hop can tell he’s waiting for something in specific.

What else is there to do besides apologize though? Is he forgetting something?

He turns to Leon for help.

His brother’s lips quirk. Using both hands, he uses his fingers to create a shape.

At first, Hop can’t really tell what it is. Triangular on the top and square-shaped on the bottom. What was that supposed to mean? What was triangular on the top and square on the bottom—

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Hop looks at Raihan again, clasping his hands behind his back.

Bashfully, he utters what should have been the first thing he said when he walked through the door.

“I-I’m home.”

Raihan instantly sets the ladle aside.

Finally, he faces Hop, a warm, fanged and toothy smile spreading across his face.

“Welcome back.” Raihan says, kind and sympathetic and understanding. Like always. Like every single time he messes up.

Hop responds feebly, the watery upturn of his lips genuine.

“I'm back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🔥🌟🔥 _you are challenged by battle couple leon and raihan!_ 🔥🌟🔥
> 
> cue leon and raihan having a million sets of matching outfits, many of them cool, regency inspired looks (and a few memey ones because they are the lords of hammerlocke castle and can do whatever they want)  
> it gets to the point where hop has to comment on it like
> 
> hop: was this all just a roundabout excuse to cosplay together  
> leon and raihan, dressed like mario and yoshi: yes. now go put on your luigi costume and mc our next match
> 
> ‼️‼️ also!! very importantly!! ‼️‼️  
> i have some lovely art to share by the very talented Linniegirl313 ! it's absolutely gorgeous and I would be remiss not to share their talents with all of you [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/CC-hyADgF8H/?igshid=119mglqxrole2)!


	20. wherever you are, wherever you may be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the sun always rises.

“Hey Hoppip? Can I come in?”

Too preoccupied with his current task, Hop misses the first, second and third attempts at calling for him. Not even the assortment of melodious knocks on his door manage to pull him away from what he’s been concentrating on all day, his mistakes and inadequate attempts stuffed into the rubbish bin beside his desk. It is overflowing at this point, the result of one too many indecisive choices and simplistic errors.

He has a good feeling this time around. Fiftieth times the charm, isn’t it? For once, the contents are to his satisfaction. Perhaps not as perfect as he would have preferred them, but even that can lend itself as a more personal flare.

Which is the point. He wants it to be personable. Not stiff. Not awkward.

Personable. And genuine.

Wholly and completely Hop.

Thankfully, it is only when he signs everything off with finality, the ache in his fingers at once dawning on him, that drastic measures are taken in acquiring his attention.

Materializing out of thin air, Galahad’s face is suddenly inches away from his own, phasing through his desk top with that same flat look he reserves solely for when he is used as an unwilling messenger. Hop can’t blame him for it. A mighty dragon with the ability to launch his children like torpedos and phase through walls should be treated as more than a glorified message carrier.Not that he’s in any place to comment on it, given Galahad is usually relegated to such a duty because of him.

Hop yelps, jolting back in his seat. No matter how many times this happens, it always catches him off guard. Ghosts really aren’t his forte.

“S-Sorry.” He apologizes, offering the ‘mon a pat on his intangible head as consolation. “Was someone calling me?”

Galahad contorts his face into what he’s taken is meant to resemble Leon. It’s a very good impression, all things considered.

“You’re getting really good at that.” Hop compliments, breathing out a laugh as Galahad preens, proceeding to make himself comfortable on the bed. Any excuse is a good excuse for him to monopolize it.

“Come in.” He calls out towards his door, capping his pen. He places it back into the Duraludon pen holder Raihan got for him the other day. A very high quality and travel friendly gift, the jaw clamping shut to hold everything inside. It’s meant to compete with the Charizard mug beside it, which Hop mainly uses for rubber bands, erasers and other small, miscellaneous office supplies. An unnecessary feud in his opinion, but if his brother and Raihan want to fight petty battles, he’ll leave them to it and reap the rewards.

“Heya sport.” Leon walks in after a moment’s pause. “Been calling you for a minute.”

“Sorry. Was busy with something.”

“More observations?”

“Nothing like that.” Hop swivels around in his chair as Leon comes to stand beside him. “Did you need something?”

“Just checking in. You’ve been cooped up in here for a while.” Leon casts a glance at his rubbish bin, then to his desk, where the parchment of paper he’s been agonizing over for the last hour lies. “Homework?”

“No.” Slightly embarrassed, Hop conspicuously covers his work with his arm. There’s no real reason to feel bashful over anything he’s written. It’s not like Leon would make fun of him or have a problem with his intentions. Still, a wave of self-consciousness washes over him. “It’s a…um…a letter.”

“A letter?” The corner of Leon’s lips quirk upward. “ _Ah_ , I get it. Make sure you compliment their eyes. That always gets Rai.”

“What? Who’s eyes?”

“Your crush. That’s a love letter, isn’t it?”

“Wha— _Of course not_!” Hop squeaks, his face heating up. How did he come to _that_ conclusion? “I don’t—There’s no one—It’s _not_!”

“C’mon, you don’t need to be shy. Give me the details. Big bro promises he won’t tell anyone.”

“ _Leon_!”

His indignant whining only sends his brother into a fit of amused chuckles.

“Relax, Hoppip.” Leon placates him, playfully poking one of his puffed out cheeks. “I’m only teasing. If it makes you feel better, I wrote one of those once.”

“You did?”

“Sure.” Suddenly, Leon is the one who looks embarrassed as he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh, may have went a little overboard on the mushy-gushy compliments. Sonia had a nice laugh about it when I asked her to proofread it for me.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Oh it _was_. I used a lot of really old, classical Galarian love ballads as reference. Outdated and really formal stuff. Thought they’d help.”

“Did they?”

“A little _too_ well.” Leon smiles, a faraway gleam in his eyes. “Raihan started crying halfway through it. I thought I messed up. He told me nobody had ever thought such nice things about him. I couldn’t believe that. I thought he was lovely the very moment we met. Took me a while to realize it went _beyond_ _that_ , but we made it somehow.”

“That’s so nice.” Hop can’t help but comment. It’s the kind of gesture his mother would have approved of, what with her passionate views on proper courtship. “I’m glad it worked out for you.”

"Because Raihan’s the best and we’d be lost without him?”

“Duh.”

Leon laughs, his smile fading slightly.

“…You think she would have liked him?” He asks. “Mum?”

“I think he would have been her favorite.” There’s no doubt about it. Raihan’s _exactly_ the kind of gentleman she could have a proper cup of tea with. “Woulda dethroned us without even trying.”

“He’s got that effect.”

“Yeah.” Hop turns his attention back to the letter. There’s no point in hiding it. “This is actually for her. It’s for mum.”

Leon’s face softens. He rests a hand on Hop’s shoulder.

“Catching her up on everything?”

“Sorta.” Hop worries the edge of the page. “It’s not too long or anything, ‘cause I don’t want to bore her. I just wrote what I think she might like to know.”

He’s spent a lot of time thinking about what to write, trying to muster up the courage to go through with it, only to back out for whatever convenient reason he could think of. It scared him initially, the idea of writing back to his mother. A reply usually means anticipating a response, and that’s simply not something Hop has the luxury of expecting anymore.

Perhaps it’s the finality of that notion that drove him to procrastinate time and time again.

Hop doesn’t want to put this off any longer.

“…mind if I tack something on?”

Not expecting that, Hop looks up at Leon, surprised.

“You want to?”

“Just a little note.” He says, eyes downcast. “Not much.”

“…okay.” Hop passes him a pen, pointedly looking away. Leon takes it and jots down his message at the bottom. Once he’s done, he folds the letter and tucks it into the envelope Hop prepared in advance.

“Done.” Leon hands it back. “Ready for delivery...If that’s what you were planning. Is it?”

“It was.”

“Okay then.” Leon grows somber. “I mean, I don’t mind taking you back if you want, but is that something you’re prepared for?”

“Taking me back?” Hop frowns, the implication of Leon’s words hitting him belatedly. “…Oh. _Oh_ , no, that’s not—That isn’t what I had in mind.”

“No?”

“No.” Hop flips the letter in his hands. “I _want_ to go back one day, to leave flowers and make sure it’s neat and tidy but…I don’t think she’s there anymore. Not really. I think…I think she’s up there.” He points upward. “And out there.” He points to his window. “Out everywhere.” He draws an imaginary loop around them. “She spent so much time stuck inside, it makes more sense for her to be traveling. Maybe even on the other side of the universe. Maybe she’s out there meeting space folk. I like to think she is.” He laughs softly. “I bet she’s asking them all about their customs and etiquette. She was always really strict about making good impressions on strangers.”

“I bet she’s having a blast.” Leon assures him. “But if it’s not there, then how do you want to…?”

Hop rises from his seat.

“Let's go outside.”

It’s an idea that’s been drumming around his head for a while. He _could_ hide the letter away, allow it to collect dust and hope the sentiments scrawled on it somehow reached her, but that seemed too boring an option. Too lackluster and unreliable. His mother was a _romantic_. She valued grand gestures. If there was a way to honor her eccentricities and ensure his words reached her, Hop would go ahead and do whatever that was.

As it happens, he knows _exactly_ what to do.

“Arthur!” Hop calls out once they’re on the terrace. The Charizard is perched upon a turret meters above them, taking in the late evening sun, his scales glittering as they actively absorb the rays of light hitting him directly. “May I request your assistance?”

Arthur glides downward without further convincing. The sun always gets him in a mellower mood than he would otherwise be in.

He lands in front of them, offering Hop a single nuzzle before patiently awaiting his favor.

“I need you to give us your strongest flamethrower.”

“Um?” Leon immediately whips around to look at him. “ _What_?”

Even Arthur appears taken aback.

“I need your strongest flamethrower.” Hop repeats, waving the letter back and forth. “I need to deliver this.”

“Hop, if this is one of those ‘ _write out your feelings to vent and decompress_ ’ techniques the doc is always suggesting we do, I’m not going to stop you.” Leon tells him carefully, as if he’s afraid Hop will be offended by his rational concerns. “But is the flamethrower _really_ _necessary_?”

“You don’t like it?” And here he thought his brother would be excited. “I thought you would.”

“I might if I understood the reasoning.”

That makes sense.

Embarrassed by his hastiness, Hop explains his rationale.

“If we burn it, everything will turn to ash, and since the wind is pretty strong up here, it'll reach mum faster. It’s a high-speed delivery method.”

“Couldn’t we use a lighter?”

“You call yourself the ex- _champion_.”

“I call myself the _almost_ ex-champion.”

“Whatever.” Details, _details_. “Where’s your showman’s spirit? We want a _spectacle_. Mum loved spectacles. This way, we’ll catch her attention, make her happy, and give her something nice to read. Good idea, right?”

“Not if we set Hammerlocke on fire.”

“How dare you imply Arthur’s aim is bad?” Hop scowls, looping an arm around the ‘mon’s neck. He leans into Hop, directing a faux offended glare Leon’s way. “I can’t believe how disrespectful you’re being.”

“And I can’t believe how cheeky _you_ are.” Leon pinches his nose, easily shrugging off the weak punches Hop aims at his side. “Fine, _fine_. I yield. Your argument is air-tight.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Leon grins, visibly giddy. Hop _knew_ he would be excited about it! “Now let’s set that thing on fire. Artie, give us your best. Preferably, away from all the flammable stuff.”

They settle on a spot that gives the best view of the setting sun, while also giving them enough space to run at any potential flare ups with the fire extinguisher Leon retrieves from inside.

“I don’t need to give Rai another reason to send me to a fire safety course.”

“You’ve given him one _before_?”

Arthur prepares himself, breathing out a few, tentative flames. Once satisfied with the results, he gestures for Hop to proceed.

“A-All right. Here we go.” Swallowing nervously, Hop readies his arm. “On three, okay? One, two, _three_!” He tosses it like a disk.

Arthur unleashes a stream of fire.

However, what he and Leon failed to account for is, unsurprisingly, _Mordred_.

Unbeknownst to them, she was definitely _not_ still sleeping a few meters away on the brand new hammock Leon purchased for communal use. While they were preparing for the letter to meet a fiery end, Mordred was preparing to upstage her fiercest competition.

Arthur’s flamethrower collides with her dragon pulse, creating a violent explosion that knocks Hop onto his back with a yelp. Leon merely stumbles back with a grunt, eyes narrowed as he sharply takes in the scene, extinguisher at the ready.

While there isn’t an active fire, the stone floors are scorched, streaks of black charred onto the ground, obvious to anybody from any direction or distance on the platform.

Meaning _incredibly_ difficult to hide, meaning Raihan will _not_ be happy.

As for the letter, not a single shred of it remains.

Not even a speck of ash.

“Uh…” Leon scratches his head uncertainly, looking to Arthur, who appears beyond annoyed, then to Morded, who could not look any more smug. “That, uh, that did not go according to plan.”

And that’s really all it takes for Hop, ears ringing and legs shaking from the scare, to burst out into laughter.

He laughs and laughs and laughs, until his stomach aches and tears are running down his cheeks. He doesn’t know what’s so funny, but the entire situation screams of ridiculous, so he can’t help it. Why did he think this was a good idea? They could have set something on _fire_.

It gets to the point where he’s nearly dry-heaving on the floor. Leon, equally as confused as he is amused, helps him into a seated position and begins to rub his back as he wheezes.

“Okay there, mate?”

“N-No.” Hop snorts, devolving into a fit of snickers. “W-We are so _dead_.”

“I guess there’s comedy to be found in our impending doom.” Leon surveys the area with a grimace. “Should we even bother with a cover up?”

“P-Probably not.” Hop wipes his face, catching his breath. “It’ll come back to bite us.”

“I reckon you’re right.” Leon smiles apologetically. “Sorry it completely disintegrated on us.”

“That’s okay.” He means it. If his mother wanted a spectacle, there it was. He can almost hear her laughing at their miscalculations and recklessness. “I’m sure she’ll piece all the tiny particles together one day.”

“Sounds like it’ll take a while.”

“She can be patient when she wants to be.” Hop takes Leon’s proffered hand, allowing himself to be hauled onto his feet. “That’s that, I guess.”

“Feel better?”

“A little.” Hop takes one last glance at the sky. “Not completely, but a little more.”

“One day at a time.” Leon whistles. “C’mon Art. Dreddy. Amp up the cuteness factor. Rai’s gonna be pissed.”

Arthur’s eyes glisten, tears pricking at their corners. Mordred adjusts the pink, purple polka-dotted ribbons weaved throughout her tusks. Though Hop’s opinion is biased and subject to critical examination, he has a hard time believing Raihan will be able to maintain an angry front for more than a minute.

They head back inside, ready to accept their fate and prepare for Hammerlocke’s one and true ruler to bestow his wrath upon them, when Gwin and Gwen appear from the void, waving their tiny arms around, eyes wide and panicked.

“Whoa, what’s up?” Leon takes them in either hand. “What’s going on?”

They don’t need to wait long for an explanation.

Galahad flies into the room seconds after, cradling something against his chest.

That something, is the egg.

Hop doesn’t initially think much of it. Galahad’s carried it before. His immediate assumption is that he’s grown uncomfortable and wants to hand it off, but that idea is quickly dismissed once he realizes how frazzled the ‘mon looks and how very _not_ still the egg is. It’s trembling, nearly completely transparent. Streams of light flash in regular intervals, ricocheting off the shell and back into the luminescent azure orb of energy suspended at the center, sparkling prettily.

A shame he can’t admire it right now.

“Leon, it’s—!” Hop rushes forward. “Is it—? Do you _think_ —?”

“We have to do something.” Leon looks around the room helplessly. “We have to _do_ something!”

“Wh-What was the plan?” Hop carefully takes the egg from Galahad’s grip. “We had one right?”

“I-I think? I’m drawing a blank!”

“ _Me too_!”

They both fumble about helplessly, streams of nonsensical blather escaping their lips until, _by the blessed will of Arceus_ , Raihan walks into the room, apparently home from whatever errands needed running.

“I’m back!” He greets cheerfully, bags on either arms, offering out a box of treats from the Battle Cafe. “And guess what I—“

“ _Egg_!” Leon and Hop screech at him simultaneously.

It only takes a few confused blinks before Raihan springs into action, ever the voice of reason for the brother duo.

“Leon and Mordred, furniture.” He commands. “Get it out of the way. I’ll get the stuff. Hop, keep ‘em warm. Arthur, you help with that.” He tosses out his team’s pokéballs, the trio assembling before him like soldiers. “You three, with me.”

Everyone sets out on their respective tasks.

Leon and Mordred clear the room with ease. A stray tea cup tumbles to the floor when Mordred shoves the coffee table aside, drenching the carpet, but as it’s not a major concern at the moment, nobody pays it any mind. Hop huddles close to Arthur as he releases a steady breath of warm air.

While there wasn’t a precise due date, Hop wasn’t expecting them to hatch for another week or two. Maybe three. He hopes that isn’t something they should be concerned about. While Pokémon eggs were indeed fickle, dependent on species and a variety of different complex factors, it doesn’t assuage his fears that perhaps he’s done something wrong.

“You’re _fine_ , Hop.” Leon’s voice breaks through his panicked musings. “You did everything right. You’re fine. _They’ll_ be fine.”

“O-Okay.” He nods, still terrified out of his wits. It’s nice to have support though. “ _Okay_.”

Raihan reappears with everyone else in record time, he and Leon constructing a nest-like structure out of the blankets and pillows they’ve prepared for the occasion. The one at the center is heated, the rest meant to keep in as much warmth as possible. Once that’s done with, they all gather around and wait because, apparently, nature was supposed to take care of the rest. That’s what the nurse at the Pokémon Center told them at least.

“I really should have convinced her into letting me borrow that vitals thing.” Raihan says, shoe tapping against the floor. “This is making me nervous.”

“Can it track vitals for sentient energy?” Hop questions, gnawing on his thumbnail. Beside him, Dee reaches out to poke the egg, startling when it jostles in return. “Is that possible?”

“It pulses, doesn’t it? Is that not a heartbeat?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s not necessary.” Leon tells them both, expression set into a determined frown. “They’ll be fine. This is how it happens in the wild.”

“Minus the parents.” Raihan remarks dryly.

“Hop’s the parent.”

“But I’m too young to be a parent!” Hop despairs, covering his face with his hands. “This is going to go _wrong_. I’m going to mess up. We should just release them into the wild. They’ll be better off that way.”

“Get a _grip_ , Hop.” Leon tells him, his voice stern, leaving no room for argument. “That’s _not_ happening. You’re going to be a wonderful caretaker, you’re going to love them and treat them with the respect they deserve, and you’re _not_ going to mess up. You’ve gone above and beyond for them so far. What makes you think them hatching changes that?”

“They have _needs_.”

“And? You’re going to meet all of those.”

“B-But what if—“

“ _No, what ifs_. We’ll cross those roads if we ever get remotely close to them. For now, focus on the _now_. They’re hatching and you need to greet them properly. What would mum call it?”

“You’re _cheating_.”

“What would she call it, Hop?” Leon presses, tone no nonsense. “ _Say it_.”

Hop sighs.

Talk about playing dirty.

“A gentleman’s duty…”

“And what are you?”

“A gentleman…”

“And what do gentlemen do?”

“They…they take care of their own.” Hop slowly straightens up.

That’s right…

That’s absolutely right!

He can’t sit around moping and being scared! He’s not a coward! He’s decided to be brave, hasn’t he? To face the world head on, no matter what it throws at him.

“Is that it?” Leon continues on in an attempt to raise his spirits further.

“No." Hop declares. "They treat others with dignity and respect. With compassion and understanding. They don’t let their own cowardice get in the way of that!”

“And?”

“They’re confident in the face of adversity!”

“What else?”

“They don’t let self-doubt get in the way of what’s important!”

“One more!”

“They don’t recklessly damage property via irresponsible, uncontrolled explosions!”

The second what he’s just said sinks in, Hop slaps a hand over his mouth.

Leon stares at him in horror.

“ _Hop._ ”

“What?” Raihan’s eyes narrow. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Leon chuckles nervously.

“Well, you _see_ , the thing is—“

He’s cut off by a particularly violent shake.

The three, along with all the Pokémon, watch on in stunned silence, enraptured by the sight of the shell cracking, faint fissures becoming more pronounced for every moment that passes by as they disintegrate into specs of blue particles, beams of cool iridescent light shining through the openings left behind. More and more breach through the amassing openings, until the remainder of the shell disappears in a strong pulse of ultramarine luminescence, the hue enveloping the entire room and its occupants.

The remaining sphere of lustrous azure begins to morph, stretching and extending as it takes its shape. Two vertical planes emerge from the top half, jutting out at the edges and declining to form two triangular appendages. On either side, two oval-like limbs take shape, small, claw-like edges lining them. The midsection grows into a circular torso, taping off into jagged ridges. The front extends, curving slightly into a neck as the top rounds off into a circular snout. Two wing-like ears pops out the sides

The light begins to dissipate, the blue hue washing away, revealing a pearly white, almost feathery coat. Off-setting the bright sheen are tufts of radiant blue, enveloping the entire midsection and proceeding backwards. On the chest, a peculiar red triangle marking appears.

Finally, the remaining wisps of luminescence scatter away from their face, revealing fin-like ears, a blue mask-like covering, and shut eyes.

They flutter open, sleepy and tired, vermillion meeting gold for the very first time.

Hop smiles, a rush of emotion warming his chest, tears pricking at his eyes.

“Good morning.” He murmurs, observing them as they take him in curiously, still dazed from spending months tucked away in their small, stuffy cradle. “Or, actually, good evening, sleepy-head.”

“ _Arceus_.” Hop distantly hears Raihan whisper. “Holy fuck.”

“Huh.” Leon utters, just as dumbstruck. He lets out a quiet, hysterical laugh. “Now _that’s_ what I call a birthday gift.”

Hop couldn’t have said it better himself.

He reaches his hands out hesitantly, afraid to startle them. They continue to gaze at him, more curious than frightened, allowing Hop to cup their face with his hands.

“You’re an Eltanin for sure.” Hop can’t control the happy giggles that escape him. “Eltanin the Latios.”

“Eltanin?” Leon inquires curiously, cradling an incoherent Raihan against his chest as he sobs in the most unobtrusive way he can, considerate even when he’s facing an unreal sight like the one before them.

“Draco’s brightest star.” Hop explains, smiling when Eltanin rubs his cheek against his fingers.

“Draco...?”

“The constellation.”

“ _That's so fucking cute_.” Raihan blubbers into Leon’s shirt, overcome with emotion. “That’s so _cute_ _._ A _Latios._ So fuckin' _adorable._ ”

Hop agrees. He’s very adorable. Very cute.

He’s even cuter when he yawns, the effort involved in being _born_ catching up with him.

“It’s okay. You can sleep.” He murmurs, Eltanin resting his head upon Hop’s lap as slumber once again overtakes him. “Good night.”

Tomorrow, if Eltanin is up for it, they can take all the time they want for proper introductions. There isn't any doubt Dee and Flo will be bouncing off the walls, Mordred eager to play, Galahad holding Gwin and Gwen back lest they overwhelm their new addition with too much excitement.

Lulu will fret and accommodate and Arthur will refuse to let him out of his sights, protective of the ward he diligently watched over every day since their arrival.

Raihan will cry some more, ever the soft hearted dragon tamer and Leon will again have to reassure Hop he won't be a bad partner. That he'll be kind and just and _good_.

Hop doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve so many stars. So many brilliant lights to guide him forward and help him stand up for ever stumble and fall. For every uncertainty that eats him from the inside and every fear that drives him to hide.

He doesn’t know if he can ever repay them for their kindness.

But he does know he’ll keep moving forward. Keep being better. Keep collecting every treasure along the way.

And if another star is ever to fall at his feet, like the one lying on his lap, like the ones surrounding him, like the ones he's found all over Galar—

The least he can do is pick it up.

* * *

_Dear Mum,_

_How are you?_

_Are you doing well?_

_Where are you right now?_

_Are you having any troubles?_

_It’s been so long since we last spoke. Since we last saw each other._

_So many days have come and gone, but the one where we meet again isn’t coming around at all._

_The sun keeps rising and setting. Time keeps ticking by, but I can’t forget the times we spent together. I can’t forget all those conversations we had, all the silly things we used to argue over, all the telly dramas we used to watch or all the gardening we used to do. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget._

_But that’s okay, I think._

_Those are special memories. I want to keep them with me always. Even if you’re gone, I won’t forget that they exist. I won’t forget the mummy who loved me and spent time with me and was always with me when I was happy or sad or mad._

_Thank you for making such nice memories with me, mummy. Thank you for always trying your best for me. Even if I could choose another mummy, I wouldn’t, because you’re the only personI would ever want to be my mum._

_That’s why you shouldn’t worry about disappointing me. I’m not disappointed. I was a little mad at first and really confused, but I’m not disappointed in you. I think you had a hard time and made mistakes and didn’t always say the right things, but that’s okay._

_I understand, because I’m the same. And so is Leon._

_We’re together right now, you know. We’ve been doing our best to get along. It doesn’t always work out and sometimes we argue about the past or about the future or about right now, but we’re doing okay. We’re working hard to be good brothers, just like you wanted. Even if we weren’t together for a very long time, we are right now and that’s what matters._ _Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to look after him. He’s a little ditzy and weird and owns way too many caps, but he’s a good person. He’s nice. He’s been very patient with me. I’m trying to be patient with him, too._ _We’re trying, so don’t worry._

_Ever since you left, I’ve met a lot of people. Interesting people. People who are kind and people who don’t make fun of me or look down on me or tell me I don’t matter._

_I wish you could meet them. I think you’d like them._

_I don’t really know what else to write. I’ve tried so many times to get this right._ _You made this seem so easy!_

_I guess if there’s one thing I want you to know, it’s that I’m all right. I’m doing okay. I'll be fine._

_It was difficult at first. I missed you horribly. I still do._

_Sometimes, I still cry about you._

_But I’m seeing a doctor now and they said it’s okay to cry sometimes. That when I cry, it means that I love you a whole lot._

_I love you so much, mum. I wish you were with me, but I know that life isn’t always very easy or very kind and when people leave, you can’t do anything to stop it._

_I know that now. I know that life keeps going. I know that I need to keep going because if I don’t, I’ll miss out on all the wonderful things ahead of me._

_That’s why I’ll keep at it. I’ll keep moving and I’ll stop looking back so much because I know that even if you’re not here, I’ll always carry you with me, no matter how far apart we are or how many days go by or how many times the sun rises and sets._

_Wherever you are, whenever we meet again, I hope at that time, I can tell you about everything. About all the people I've met, all the things I've learned, all the memories I've made. About all the moments where all I've wanted to do is disappear and all the moments where I've wondered what the point of anything was if you weren't here with me._

_I’ll tell you everything. All of it._

_Until then, I'll live and live and live some more, though there's no telling what the future may hold._

_And when I see you again, I want you to know._

_The words I've wanted to say, I think I can finally bring myself to say them._

_I hope at that time, you can too._

_from_

_hop : )_

_Don’t worry, mum. I’ll take care of him._

_-Leon_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //pops champagne 🥂🥂  
> we did it bois
> 
> In all seriousness, I can't believe we've finally reached the end! From an idea I came up with at some odd hour of the night to a fully completed fic, it's been a joy the entire way through. I never imagined myself writing anything as angsty as this has been since fluff is my usual haunt, but it's certainly been delightful despite all the tears along the way!
> 
> I sincerely want to thank everyone for reading along and following Hop's journey through heartbreak and reconciliation! Thank you for your comments, kudos, and support. I know this was a very different take on Hop's usual peppy self, so I appreciate your receptiveness! A little break from the routine isn't so bad every once in a while 😊
> 
> On that note, I have a few things to say.
> 
> I know a lot of you wanted the egg to be a Wooloo! I feel you! The temptation was there but ultimately, I decided this is a very different Hop from the one who's brother caught him his first Pokémon. As such, I wanted his first Pokémon pal to be unique to this AU version of him. Latios fit the bill perfectly.  
> For further explanation, take a look at these Pokédex entries:
> 
> From Sapphire:  
> "Latios will only open its heart to a Trainer with a compassionate spirit. This Pokémon can fly faster than a jet plane by folding its forelegs to minimize air resistance."
> 
> From Emerald:  
> "Even in hiding, it can detect the locations of others and sense their emotions since it has telepathy. Its intelligence allows it to understand human languages."
> 
> From FireRed and LeafGreen:  
> "It has a docile temperament and dislikes fighting. Tucking in its forelegs, it can fly faster than a jet plane."
> 
> From Y:  
> "It understands human speech and is highly intelligent. It is a tender Pokémon that dislikes fighting."
> 
> Add in the Dragon-typing, not needing to evolve, the ability to fly and the fact that he's blue? Too perfect!  
> While the urge to go ham and give him a Rayquaza or Arceus was very tempting, ultimately, Latios was the better choice in my eyes. I'm so sorry fellow Wooloo lovers!
> 
> Also, Hop's letter was heavily based on Violet's from Violet Evergarden. They're both characters who have struggled to overcome loss and move forward alongside the people they've met along the way. I thought it was fitting!
> 
> And that's about it! Thanks to everyone yet again. Your support has meant so much to me. I hope I can keep writing about these precious boys!
> 
> Thank you for reading! 🤗


End file.
